Scars Remind Us Where We've Been
by define-serenity
Summary: [Reid/OC] Old traumas and similar pasts push SSA Leighton Tanner and Dr Spencer Reid closer together after they meet on a case. Will their past prevent a closer relationship? And what happens when their work and private lives become intertwined? SERIES. INCOMPLETE.
1. December 2013

**author's notes:** after rewatching everything _Criminal Minds_, my brain refused to let this go. those that don't like OCs, maybe it's best you don't even start, unless you're willing to give me the benefit of the doubt. my OCs are my babies and i treasure them, and i put all my time into making them believable 3D characters. those that are here to read a good story, i hope i deliver! the story should become a series of oneshot drabbles, eventually centring around Reid and my OC. special thanks to my beta **Inwenalas**.

**characters:** Leighton Tanner (OC), Hotch

**setting:** flashforward

********disclaimer:** ******without prejudice. the names of all characters contained here-in are the property of CBS and Jeff Davis. no infringments of these copyrights are intended, and are used here without permission. Leighton Tanner and all other characters labelled (OC) in the header above belong exclusively to me.

* * *

><p><strong>SCARS REMIND US WHERE WE'VE BEEN;;<strong>

**prologue**

* * *

><p><em>there are people who never would have fallen in love<em>

_if they had not heard there was such a thing_

(-François La Rouchefoucauld)

* * *

><p><strong>date: <strong>December 12th, 2013

**place:** Behavioral Analysis Unit, Quantico, Virginia

"Are you sure about this?" Hotch asks, and looks up at her, his brow set stern and self-assured, the way she's come to appreciate during her time spent on his team. There's both concern and acceptance in his voice; it's not a real question either, but he's still making sure.

Leighton nods. "I've made my decision," she says, and folds her hands together in her lap.

"You've asked for reassignment to the White Collar Crime Unit," Hotch says, reading the request from her official resignation letter.

"I know it's a long shot." Leighton shakes her head and shrugs. With her situation changing, she thought it was best she got a more stable work schedule. The White Collar Crime Unit will give her a steady nine-to-five routine; it will also keep her seated at a desk, but at least it will keep her mind occupied. After all, con men needed profiling from time to time as well.

"You've got it," Hotch says.

Leighton blinks. "Excuse me?"

"Rossi and I both wrote a personal recommendation," Hotch explains, closing the file on his desk. "Strauss has already approved the request." Leighton is staring at him wide-eyed when he looks at her again. He gets up from behind his desk, and extends a hand. "Congratulations," he says.

For a few moments, Leighton is at a complete loss for words. "I don't know what to say," she says, gets up from her chair, and shakes Hotch's hand firmly. "Thank you," she smiles.

Hotch walks around his desk, folds his arms over his chest, and leans back against his desk. "You'll be teaching too?" he asks.

"If they'll have me," Leighton nods. "Someone should learn from my mistakes."

"You're a good agent, Leighton," Hotch says. Six years, he thinks, and she still thinks she's the same reckless FBI agent she was when she started out with the BAU. "Don't let anyone ever tell you different." He knows the rest of the team will be arriving soon, and he'll have to inform everyone that Leighton will no longer be with them. Even though he knows she's leaving for all the right reasons, it'll be hard for everyone to watch her go.

"If you don't mind, Hotch," Leighton starts, "Spence and I would like to tell the team together."

"Of course." He walks around his desk again, and grabs a box out of the top right drawer. "This is for you." He hands the small black box to Leighton. Jack'd said he should wrap it up in something more colorful, but Hotch had deemed it safer to go for a more neutral color. In case someone started asking questions. "Consider it a going away present."

"Hotch, you didn't have to—" Leighton shakes her head.

"I wanted to be the first," Hotch says, and Leighton swears she can almost see him smile. "Jack helped me pick it out."

Leighton lifts the lid off the box carefully, and turns it in her hand. A tiny cube falls out onto her palm. She laughs, mostly to herself. "It's perfect," Leighton smiles broadly, and looks up at Hotch. "Thanks."

* * *

><p><strong>if you can, please let me know what you think!<strong>


	2. It's Not About The Wrong Or Right

**author's notes:** so after struggling with my format for a while, i decided this needed to be a longer chapter. i purposely didn't focus on the case too much, because i wanted a stronger focus on the relationships between all the characters. i might still post shorter drabbles in between the longer chapters though. i hope you all enjoy! super-special thanks to my girl **Inwenalas** for giving this a read-through!

**characters:** Leighton Tanner (OC), Joe Hardwick (OC), Jordan Todd, Hotch, Rossi, Prentiss, Reid, Morgan

**setting:** before 4x07 - _Masterpiece  
><em>

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

><p><strong>SCARS REMIND US WHERE WE'VE BEEN;;<strong>

**chapter one**

* * *

><p><strong>date:<strong> November 14th-17th, 2008

**place:** Chesapeake, Virginia

**(1)**

The first precinct is located in the Great Bridge section of Chesapeake, just outside the city. It's a slow traffic day and they get from the airport to Albemarle Drive in under twenty minutes. Jordan leads the way inside, searching the room for the lead detective on the case. She'd already spoken to him on the phone.

"Detective Hardwick?" she calls out. A tall springy man gets up from behind his desk and walks over to her. "I'm Agent Jordan Todd," she says, and shakes the man's hand. "These are agents Hotchner, Rossi and Prentiss. The rest of the team went to take a look at the crime scene."

"Joe Hardwick," the detective says, and shakes everyone else's hand. "I appreciate you all coming down here on such short notice. I've got a room set up for you at the back, and anything else you need you can run by me."

"That should do for now," Hotch says and follows Detective Hardwick to the other side of the room. "We'd like to talk to the families as soon as agents Reid and Morgan return." The door to the restroom opens across the room. "Is that—" Hotch starts as he sees a familiar face emerging.

"SSA Leighton Tanner," Rossi fills in the name, surprised. He recognizes the slight brunette as she walks over to the water cooler. They've met several times at his lectures and he knows Hotch and her have crossed paths before as well.

"Tanner?" Prentiss frowns and looks at Hotch. "The agent that—" Instead of saying it Emily makes a vertical hand gesture down her abdomen. They're all staring at her until Detective Hardwick turns; he seems to know her. There's just something in the way his eyes are now downcast. It's a sign of respect. He's sparing her the burden of FBI infamy.

"She's the one who suggested I call you," he says, and feels the focus shift to him again. Agent Todd is already inside the conference room pinning pictures up on the cork boards. "She's my sister-in-law," he explains. "She's been staying with us since—" He doesn't say it. He can't say it. It's been said enough times already.

"And you asked her to take a look at the case file?" Hotch asks. The last case Tanner worked almost got her killed; he doesn't know her very well, but from what he'd gathered around the bureaucratic bullpen her return to the Bureau was doubtful. Some people just aren't cut out for this job.

"She offered." Hardwick shrugs. He wasn't allowed to admit that he'd purposely left the file on the kitchen table for Leighton to find. His wife Natalie, Leighton's older sister, hated when he brought his work home with him. "Something like this has never happened here. I figured I could use all the help I could get."

"You did the right thing," Hotch says.

Leighton makes her way over to them. "Agent Tanner," Rossi says, and shakes her hand. He's never seen her with her hair down like this, a shoulder-length curly mess. She's wearing a denim shirt, sleeves bunched up at her elbows. Rossi notices that she's not carrying a gun or any credentials.

"Just Leighton, please," she says. "I'm not working this case."

"We're aware of your situation," Hotch says, and crosses his arms over his chest, "But we'd like to keep you around as a consultant."

Leighton's left hand twitches at her side. Everyone notices. "Why?" she asks, burying her hand in her pants pocket. She asks despite understanding the reasoning behind it.

"Right now you know this case better than us," Hotch explains. Leighton casts down her eyes and stares at her feet. "Not to mention you have BAU experience," he adds, and Leighton looks up at him again. She's not sure how much her BAU training can help them. "Leighton, we need you," Hotch stresses.

She knows he's preying on a part inside her that's still vulnerable, but she also realizes it's working. Joe had been asking for her help as well, and it's like he said, they need all the help they can get. "Okay," she says, biting the inside of her lip.

* * *

><p><strong>(2)<strong>

"Reid, Morgan, we're in here," Hotch calls out from the back room. Reid and Morgan make their way across the room and join the rest of the team again.

When Reid enters the room, he recognizes Leighton from the news immediately. _FBI Agent Injured In Hunt For Frisco Ripper_, the headlines had read. The news had spread through the BAU like wildfire; when one of their own got hurt in the field it affected most of them, even if they didn't know the person.

"This is Agent Morgan," Hotch says, and Detective Hardwick shakes Morgan's hand. "And—"

"Dr Spencer Reid," Leighton interrupts. She doesn't shake any hands. "I know. I've read some of your articles."

"Really?" Reid asks, his voice high-pitched.

There's a short silence, and Morgan snickers. "Try not to sound so surprised next time," he tells Reid. He catches himself thinking that Tanner looks older than twenty-six. The job does that to some people.

"Hotch," Emily interrupts, carrying a bowl filled with cookies inside with her. "Someone just dropped these off at the front desk for us."

"My wife," Detective Hardwick says, and takes over the bowl, placing it in the middle of the table. "Sorry about that. She stress-bakes."

Morgan and Reid both steal one of the chocolate chip cookies.

"Reid, T— Leighton," Hotch corrects himself, "you stay here and work on the geographical profile. You grew up here, so that should help," he tells Leighton. "Jordan, you talk to the press. The rest of us will talk to the families."

Reid and Leighton glance at each other briefly while the rest of the team makes its way out of the room, papers rustling and chairs creaking. "Play nice," Morgan says to Reid before leaving the room, and Reid frowns to himself as he stares after Morgan; when has he ever not _played nice_, whatever that's supposed to mean in the first place.

A silence settles in the room. Leighton grabs a map from the table and walks it over to the board. Reid walks over to her to help her unfold it, and pin it up to the board. Leighton doesn't once look at him.

"Can I ask you something?" Reid asks after long moments have passed.

"Sure," Leighton says, and smoothes down the paper over the board with her right hand.

"Nick Mumford," he says and sees Leighton's left hand twitch, making her drop the blue thumbtack she was about to press into the cork board. "How did you know?" he asks, while Leighton dives to the floor to pick up the tack. Leighton stands up, and pins the thumbtack to the board, holding up one corner of the map. It's only then that she looks at Reid; she realizes he still has questions. "You didn't chase any other suspects. It's like—like you knew."

Leighton casts down her eyes. Reid knows he touched a nerve. "I did my job." Leighton swallows hard, and gnaws at her lip. "I created a working profile. I followed my instincts." She knows she's saying two different things. It's more of a lie than anything else.

"I read the case file," Reid says, and pins down the two left corners of the map. "It was very impressive. It reminded me of a profile Jason Gideon created for The Footpath Killer. There was a striking resemblance in detail—"

"I'm not—" Leighton shakes her head and closes her eyes. She takes a few steps back and puts her hands in her sides. "It was nothing like that. Gideon predicted a stutter, that's—" She shakes her head again. "Don't compare my profile to his, please."

Reid frowns; what did he say? Leighton's picking at her lips with her nails now, and then ruffles through her hair. "You were both right to the very last detail," he adds.

She looks at him, her whole body fidgety now. "Except my profile wasn't an official one," she says. "It's one I created independently of my team's input."

"But— you were right," Reid says carefully.

Leighton sighs. "Can we please focus on the case?" she asks. Reid quirks his mouth, and nods.

* * *

><p><strong>(3)<strong>

Her hand stops shaking the moment she inhales a lung-full of nicotine. Between every pull Leighton picks at her lips, even though she knows it's yet another nervous tick she should get rid of. A few moments later Prentiss joins her right outside the police precinct.

"Sorry," Leighton says, looking at Prentiss apologetically, but doesn't put out the cigarette. "I know it's a bad habit." She also realizes the irony of her smoking while there's a serial arsonist rampaging through the city.

"It's okay." Prentiss shakes her head, and sits down on the bench behind Leighton. "Your sister seems nice," Prentiss says, just trying to make conversation. Leighton's mostly been distant during the past two days; her knowledge of the city has helped them narrow down the geographical profile, but she's made no attempt to talk to any of them when it wasn't necessary.

Leighton snickers. "Yeah, she is."

"You don't get along," Prentiss says. It's not a question.

Leighton hates how easy she's making it for other people to profile her. "We did, until the day I decided to be a cop," Leighton answers, and turns to look at Prentiss. She shrugs. "Shutting me out is her way of protecting herself." It's not the whole truth. Her brother-in-law was the reason she became a cop in the first place.

"From having to go through the pain of losing you?" Prentiss asks. "That's pretty extreme."

"Mine wasn't the first hospital bed she's had to visit."

"Joe—" Prentiss starts, but doesn't want to press too hard. She imagines there are plenty of things Leighton gets asked all the time.

"They used to live in DC," Leighton explains. "Joe took two to the chest at a shoot-out two years ago. My sister was pregnant with her second baby at the time. It nearly killed her too. Since then—" Since then most communication with her sister is either passive-aggressive or non-existent. "It doesn't bother me. She should focus on her own family."

Prentiss stares at her back for a while. She wonders if it's a lie Leighton tells herself or if she really means it; she seems to have pretty strong family ties despite this declared distance from them. "Life's too short, hu?"

"Something like that, yeah," Leighton says.

* * *

><p><strong>(4)<strong>

Leighton's been staring at the board for five minutes straight when Morgan finally decides to join her by her side. "How did you know?" Morgan asks. His question has nothing to do with the case, but with something Reid told him earlier.

"Know what?" Leighton frowns, her hand resting against her chin, eyes still fixed on the board.

"Nick Mumford." Morgan sees Leighton's hand twitch against her chin, and she flexes her fingers before putting her hand in her pants pocket. He knows it's a minor sign of PTSD, the fidgeting and gnawing at her lips as well.

Leighton sighs, and avoids looking at Morgan. But she knows she won't get away with keeping silent. "Like I told Reid," she says. "I did the job. I created a profile and followed the evidence." Lies lies _lies_, she thinks to herself, and takes a deep breath to slow down her heartbeat.

"Come on," Morgan insists. She turns to him, and he stands directly in front of her. "Profiler to profiler."

There's something in the way he asks her, his voice soft and caring, like he really just wants to make sure she gets it off her chest. Sometimes talking about it helps. "Profiler to profiler?" Leighton asks, and shakes her hair from her eyes. "I was young and reckless and stupid," she says. Morgan remains silent. "My team shot down my profile and I was too proud to admit defeat. So I went down there to prove a point." Her eyes glaze over and she goes back to that day, walking up to the front door, ringing the doorbell— Leighton shakes her head. "I got lucky."

"Lucky?" Morgan frowns. She has a strange definition of _lucky_. "The guy almost killed you."

"My profile was based on gut feeling and conjecture." She's avoiding Morgan's eyes again.

"It also saved Sylvia Burke's life," Morgan stresses. "You got her back home to her family. Your profile turned out to be dead on."

Leighton becomes more restless. She looks at him strongly. "Because I wrote it after meeting Mumford." Does she need to spell it out? Her pride got in the way of doing her job properly. "There was something off about the guy and I based everything on that feeling," she says, and feels tears stinging her eyes. She wills them back down. "It went against everything I was ever taught about profiling."

"You caught a serial killer who'd already killed five women, and wouldn't have stopped," Morgan says. For some reason, he was the last person she'd expected to encourage what she did. Maybe they had something in common. "Training or not, you should feel proud."

Leighton sniggers to herself. "I went down there _knowing_ that I'd be facing a killer," she says, looking straight at him. "And I went alone? What does that tell you about me?"

Morgan shrugs. "You made a mistake. We all do."

* * *

><p><strong>(5)<strong>

They close the case in a matter of days; the character and geographical profile narrow things down to such a degree that they catch the UnSub before he manages to destroy another home, another family.

"My wife has invited you all to dinner," Detective Hardwick says, looking around the room while the whole team is packing up their things. His in-laws and his wife run a small B&B not too far from here; Natalie had insisted they come over after the case was closed.

"Oh no, we couldn't possibly impose," Prentiss says, but he sees Joe and Leighton exchanging amused glances. "What?" Prentiss asks.

"She's also seven months pregnant," Leighton says. After two nephews and a niece, she's learned a thing or two about arguing with her sister during a pregnancy.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Morgan asks.

"It means you should know better than to argue," Hotch answers. Rossi, Morgan, and Prentiss are looking at him in question, while Jordan and Reid are taking down all the pictures and maps from the evidence boards. "I suppose we could all use a decent meal." Hotch nods. "We'll take the first car," he tells Prentiss and Morgan. "Dave, you, Jordan and Reid can take the other."

Half of the team follows behind Leighton and Joe – Jordan pulls Rossi aside in the conference room. "Can I ask—" Jordan starts, and stares after Leighton. Reid looks up from the box he's packing. "What happened to her?" Jordan asks carefully, and before answering, Rossi makes sure Leighton is well out of hearing range.

Reid walks over to the board and starts taking down the pictures Jordan has neglected. He's listening intently, even though he knows the case file by heart.

"She worked The Frisco Ripper case six months ago," Rossi says, hands in his pockets. "You might have read about it in the papers. Guy tortured women for weeks. Cut them, then cleaned their wounds so they could heal only to cut them up again."

"Oh God." Jordan's lip curls in disgust.

"She was the junior member on another BAU team at the time. She'd been out canvassing with local PD, and came across a photographer named Nick Mumford, the UnSub. In her report she said there was something fishy about the guy from the moment she met him. When she confronted her team about it, they told her he didn't fit the profile."

"They didn't listen to her?" Jordan frowns. She realizes all too well that Leighton is young, but she'd been out in the field for almost a year before the Ripper case. She might still have a lot to learn, but her team not listening to her seems strange.

"She built her own profile, and went back to Mumford's studio to ask him some more questions. Without back-up. The guy let her in, she snooped around while he made them tea, and found Sylvia Burke's wedding ring in a drawer. He drew a knife on her before she had the chance to pull her gun. He gutted her rib bone to hip, and left her bleeding on the floor."

Jordan takes a deep breath and crosses her arms over her chest. She thinks there must be more to the story; she knows they caught the Ripper. "But she made it," she says.

Rossi nods. "Local PD knew where she was. When her team noticed she was gone for too long they went looking for her. They found Sylvia Burke alive in the basement, and Tanner unconscious in the living room."

"So she _was_ right," Jordan says, because she's heard that word being thrown around all day between her colleagues, but never once had she heard the story straight. It must be hard for Leighton to be known by people only because of what happened to her; it's not the way people want to be remembered.

"She went against every protocol in the book," Rossi says. "She was reckless." He shrugs. "But yeah, she was right."

Reid suddenly understands why Leighton was so distant yesterday. She didn't want the praise, because she truly felt she didn't deserve it. He realizes he knows exactly how she feels. Sylvia Burke wasn't Nick Mumford's last victim, just like Pam and Mike Hayes weren't Tobias Hankel's last victims. _They _were.

* * *

><p><strong>(6)<strong>

The B&B isn't a very big place; it can only house about six families at a time, but it seemed like a great place to grow up. After dinner, Reid finds Leighton outside in the yard. "Hey," he says once he's reached her. She's staring up at the sky, looking at the stars, he guesses.

Leighton doesn't move or look at him. "Hi," she says.

"Hey, I'm sorry about yesterday?" he says, and frowns, putting his hands in his pockets. Leighton looks out in front of her at the sound of his words. "I shouldn't have—"

"Don't worry about it," Leighton interrupts, and turns her head to look at him. "Mumford's a touchy subject, that's all." She uncrosses her arms, and stares at her left hand, shaking. Reid stares at her hand too, but looks back up at Leighton when he feels her eyes on him. He waits for her to say it. "It's my gun hand," Leighton explains. "It tremors every time I think about—"

Reid takes a step closer to her, and takes hold of her hand without hesitation. Leighton stares at him, both fascinated and amused, while he examines her hand. He spreads her fingers out, turns her hand over a few times; it's twitching the whole time. "Clearly physiological. Probably stress-related," he mutters to himself. And then he realizes exactly what he's doing. He lets go of Leighton's hand, and digs his own back into his pockets, taking a step back. "How long have you had it?" he clears his throat, and frowns.

Leighton balls her hand into a fist, but smiles to herself. "A few weeks," she answers. "Since I've been thinking about going back to work." She doesn't feel qualified for the job anymore, so it's like her brain is giving her the excuse to quit. No one can shoot a gun with a hand tremor.

"You should talk to someone about it," Reid says. "The Bureau's got great counselors."

"You know that from experience?" Leighton asks. She knows about his brush with death at the hands of Tobias Hankel, but Reid doesn't seem particularly interested in talking about that. She thinks that makes him just a tiny bit of a hypocrite.

"I don't really like therapists?" He makes it a question, pushing his hair back behind his ear. Leighton takes out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. "But _you_ might—" His voice trails off when he hears the rest of the team making their way to the yard, ready to take off. "Six minutes," he says instead, right when Leighton opens the lighter.

Leighton blinks. "What?" she asks, cigarette still hovering between her lips.

"That's what I used to tell my mom when she—" he frowns, because Morgan is shaking his head at him behind Leighton's back. He thinks that maybe Morgan is trying to communicate that he shouldn't talk about his mother in front of Leighton, but he doesn't understand why. "A cigarette takes six minutes off your life," he corrects nonetheless. "Actually, did you know that five out of ten times smoking actually worsens symptoms of PTSD?"

Leighton picks the cigarette from between her lips. That's the first she's heard. "It does?" she asks.

"Yeah, the nicotine fools your brain into thinking you're actually feeling better, while you're only growing more dependent on it?" Reid nods. "In turn, you'll always need bigger doses of it to achieve the same result."

Leighton blinks again, but smiles. "So—I should probably quit while I'm ahead."

"Y—Yeah," he nods.

* * *

><p><strong>if you can, please let me know what you think!<strong>


	3. You've Caught My Eye

**author's notes:** i got such wonderful reactions to my last chapter, thank you all so much for taking the time to tell me what you think, i can't express my joy and appreciation enough! i hope you all enjoy the new chapter!

**characters:** Leighton Tanner (OC), Reid, Morgan, Garcia, mention of Jordan, JJ and Prentiss

**setting:** (1) after 4x12 - _Soul Mates_, (2) after 4x13 - _Bloodline  
><em>

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

><p><strong>SCARS REMIND US WHERE WE'VE BEEN;;<strong>

**chapter two**

* * *

><p><strong>(1)<strong>

**date:** January 16th, 2009

He's never really been one to pay much attention to the things that go on around him when he's thinking very actively. It's like when his mom is reading a book, any book; you could march a philharmonic orchestra through the room, nothing will break her concentration. But when he gets back from the restroom, about to leave with the rest of the team, and he's thinking about what else he can tell Emily about the etymology of the word xenophobia, someone passing him in the hallway manages to grab his attention immediately.

"Leighton!" he calls out rather loudly. He checks himself immediately as he twists on his heels to face her.

Leighton stops short in her tracks, looking up from the file she was studying. "Dr Reid," she says, and smiles, hugging the folder close to her chest.

"Spencer is fine," he says. "Or Reid. A lot of people call me Reid." He nods, pushing his hair back. "What—what are you doing here?" he asks, realizing too late what a ridiculous question it is.

Leighton frowns to herself amusedly. "Incidentally, it seems we work in the same building," she jokes, because she's sure he knows that they have the same job. She's not sure what to make of Reid's behavior though; is he like this around everyone, or is she making him nervous?

Reid smiles to himself, feeling embarrassed. "So you're back?" he asks, one hand in his pocket, the other scratching the back of his neck.

Leighton nods. "It was time." Her doubts about her competency to do this job hadn't entirely disappeared, but she'd given up smoking, the tremor in her hand was gone, and she'd passed her psych evaluation. Being home had helped her through some tough times, as it always did, but she couldn't stay there forever.

"Reid, you coming?" Morgan calls as he makes his way towards Reid, and only then takes notice of Tanner. He's not used to seeing Reid make casual conversation – as casual as it gets for him — with other people in the building. "Tanner, look at you," he smiles, and he finds the smile she returns heartwarming; Leighton seems to be doing much better. "Back on the job?" he asks.

"You know it."

Reid doesn't understand the expression.

Prentiss and Jordan are at the other end of the hallway, waiting for the elevator. "Do you wanna grab a slice with us?" Morgan asks, staring at his colleagues over his shoulder. He can't imagine Leighton being worse company than the first time they met, and there seems to be something interesting going on between her and Reid.

"Pizza?" Leighton asks. Reid's not looking at her; both his hands are buried in his pockets now.

"Yeah, that's the general meaning of slice," Morgan answers.

"Sorry, I don't do pizza." Leighton shrugs. She knows that if it had been anything else, she would have said yes, despite the fact that Reid has gone completely silent on her. She wonders if it's because Morgan's there now.

"You don't do pizza?" Morgan asks, disbelieving. "Woman, what's wrong with you?"

"I'm allergic to tomatoes," Leighton explains. And allergic reactions aren't a pretty sight to see. "Pizza tends to be complete only _with_ tomatoes."

"Actually, before the 17th century pizza was always covered with white sauce?" Reid says suddenly, and nods his head. It makes him feel better to blurt out a random fact, otherwise he'd just be staring down at his feet while Morgan talks to Leighton.

"Really?" Leighton asks. Morgan notices immediately that rather than taking the team's usual stance to Reid's random fact-spouting, Leighton seems genuinely interested. He's pretty sure that won't last. Then again, who's he to say anything about how Leighton will react to Reid?

"Yeah," Reid nods, encouraged by Leighton's positive reaction. "It wasn't until the discovery of America that they were garnished with tomatoes." He's not exactly sure how he knows this; he's _pretty_ sure he read it somewhere on a flyer during one of their cases. "And that was after people stopped believing they were poisonous."

"Speak for yourself," Leighton retorts. "One bite can land _me_ in the hospital."

"Maybe some other time then," Morgan says. "Okay, pizza boy, let's go eat," he tells Reid, and turns to walk away.

Reid laughs uncomfortably. He turns, but then decides against it and turns to face Leighton again. "It was great seeing you again," he says. Part of him wishes he had something more profound to say, but the rest of the team is waiting for him, and saying anything else now would make them too aware of both him and Leighton. He's fairly certain that Morgan will have something to say about it once he joins his colleagues.

Leighton smiles. "You too," she says, and brushes her hair back behind her ears. Reid smiles awkwardly again before turning and following Morgan down the hall.

"You like him," a voice sounds from behind Leighton suddenly; she recognizes it as Penelope's immediately. Garcia only caught the last part of the conversation, but it wasn't difficult to see Leighton's interest in Reid, or vice versa.

Leighton turns. "Excuse me?" she asks, but keeps her tone playful.

"You did that thing with your hair," Garcia nods, and quickly rambles on. "That thing you do when you like someone. You did that." She's beaming ear to ear, and Leighton thinks she might be enjoying herself a little too much at her expense.

"How—" Leighton shakes her head. "You're making that up." Leighton's eyes narrow on Garcia's face precariously. "I've never—_You_'ve never—" She's not even sure what she's talking about. Yes, she might have taken a certain liking to Dr Spencer Reid, but does that have to mean what Garcia thinks it means?

"Oh oh— I have," Garcia laughs. "You remember that tech guy when you first started here? Charlie?"

Leighton does remember. Charlie, the tech guy, had come in to install the new computer systems for the entire unit. He was cute, and talkative, and had bumped his head on her desk several times while making witty jokes about her computer system in layman's terms. "That was two years ago," Leighton says. How can Garcia possibly remember?

"But you dated him," Garcia says. "And you did that hair-thing when you first met him."

They only went on three dates, Leighton remembers, before the pressures of her job got to him and he left her for someone with a more stable schedule. For all his cuteness and wittiness, Charlie the tech guy could have used more manners.

"Hey, baby girl, where you at?" Morgan calls down the hallway suddenly.

Leighton raises an eyebrow and looks at Garcia. If she has a tell, then Garcia has a bundle of tells. Garcia raises a finger at her while she passes Leighton in the hallway. "Don't even say it!"

* * *

><p><strong>(2)<strong>

**date:** February 5th, 2009

"So let me get this straight," Leighton says while she picks at the small bowl of peanuts on top of the bar. Ever since she's stopped smoking, or rather, ever since she started trying, she has the worst salt cravings. "You have three PhDs and three BAs, an IQ of 187, and an eidetic memory," she sums up, Reid looking at her intently. "Why in hell are you doing this job?" Leighton shakes her head, uncomprehending.

"What do you mean?" Reid frowns.

"You could do anything you want and you chose to do this," Leighton says. "Why?"

"I don't know," Reid casts down his eyes and tries to laugh it off rather embarrassedly. Why does anyone do anything, he thinks, but he remembers Morgan once told him why he might have chosen this job. He understands the psychology, people's experiences in childhood partly make them what they become in later life, but he doesn't feel up to discussing that with Leighton. Not just yet. "Why did you?" he asks.

Leighton shrugs. "I don't know." None of her relatives really understood why she joined the Bureau. "I didn't really know what to do after graduating. My sister still lived here, so I spend a lot of time with her. In the end, I think it was Joe getting shot that convinced me." Joe got caught up in a hostage negotiation that had gone horribly bad.

"What made you choose the FBI?" Reid asks, because Joe was a cop; he didn't work for the Bureau.

Leighton bites down on her lip, and smiles up at him. Her sister had once told her that her reasons for joining the FBI were both _sinful_ and _frolicky_; she'd refused to call it pride and childishness. It was the first conversation between Natalie and her that had ended in a fight. "I'm a classic overachiever," Leighton says, unwilling to lay out her family quarrels.

"I don't think that's true," Reid says, and clears his throat, swallowing hard. He's almost sure Leighton is flirting with him. Strangely he finds something pleasant stir at the pit of his stomach; he doesn't know if it's because Leighton seems genuinely interested in getting to know him – _quirks and all _Garcia would say – or because talking to her just comes easy. "Overachieving means you're putting excessive effort in getting positive results."

"Are you calling me lazy?" Leighton's eyes narrow on his face playfully.

"Wh—No, I'm not—" Reid stutters and frowns, until he sees a smile coloring Leighton's features. He chuckles. "I'm just saying that you shouldn't sell yourself short."

Leighton nods to herself, popping another peanut in her mouth. "Getting stabbed by a deranged serial killer _has_ humbled me." She looks at her left hand; it's completely steady.

"_Pride makes us artificial and humility makes us real_. Thomas Merton," Reid quotes. Leighton looks at him just as the bartender places their drinks in front of them. She wonders if Reid realizes how applicable that quote is to her entire life. Reid's about to say something more, but just then Morgan cuts in between them, grabbing the beers off the bar.

"What are you two kids talking about?" Morgan asks.

"About why Leighton joined the Bureau," Reid says, and follows Morgan across the room to their table.

"And why's that?" Morgan asks.

Leighton sits down at the table next to Garcia, Morgan and Reid opposite them. Prentiss and JJ are over at the dartboard. "Because pride comes before the fall," Leighton answers. Reid raises his eyebrows and smiles, impressed. Leighton knows she can be poetic when the occasion calls for it. "Who's winning?" Leighton asks, taking a sip from her beer.

"JJ's winning," Reid answers. "She always wins."

"You know that's a statistical improbability, right?" Leighton asks. Everyone at the table looks at her as she takes another sip from her beer. Leighton acts innocent. "Oh, my turn," she says and gets up from the table. JJ hands her some darts to throw.

Morgan turns in his seat, making sure that no one outside of the table can hear the conversation. "Reid, I'm going to tell you this because I care about you, man," he says. "But that girl is throwing herself at you."

"What?" Reid almost squeals, but feels his cheeks flush warm.

"She wants you, lover boy," Garcia beams.

* * *

><p><strong>if you can, please let me know what you think!<strong>


	4. I've Never Met Anyone Quite Like You

**author's notes:** i'm so glad you're all enjoying my story! hope you like the new chapter!

**characters:** Leighton Tanner (OC), Reid, mention of Prentiss, Morgan and JJ

**setting:** 2nd half of season 4_  
><em>

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

><p><strong>SCARS REMIND US WHERE WE'VE BEEN;;<strong>

**chapter three**

* * *

><p><strong>(1)<strong>

He cancels on her three times.

In his defense, Leighton cancels on him twice and every time it's because work interferes. Morgan once told him that the job takes up all their time, as if it was some explanation of why no one could ever catch him with the same girl twice – JJ told him that he's not Morgan, and he was just going out on _one date_. He doesn't really know what any of that means. All he knows is that Leighton makes him feel something, something that he hasn't felt many times before. All those other times he hadn't acted on it, and the girls were far enough away not to make him doubt his inaction. But Leighton is different. In a way, in a strange incomprehensible way, he thinks she actually understands him.

"Has anyone ever told you that you drink an inordinate amount of coffee?" she asks. She's always saying things like that; _has anyone ever told you_, _did you know_, _for a guy as smart as you_— He thinks that maybe he should feel insulted, because with those statements she's placing him in a clearly defined and labeled box, yet she manages to make it sound playful.

Reid nods. "My mom," he says, taking a sip from his coffee. "She thinks that's why I'm so skinny." He keeps staring into the black pool inside his mug; he really doesn't know what to say. In any other situation he might start talking about the specific properties of caffeine as a psychoactive alkaloid, but he remembers a talk he once had with Morgan in a night club, something about _game_ and taking control of a conversation. But then he remembers JJ telling him he's not Morgan, so he just stays silent.

"Maybe I could cook for you some time," Leighton says.

"You cook?" Reid blinks, realizing too late his question could be taken as an insult. Was that what Morgan had meant by _playing nice_?

"I grew up in a B&B, Reid," Leighton smiles, and sits back in her seat when the waitress brings her a basket of fries and a coke. Leighton had told him her nicotine-cravings had been replaced by _salt_-cravings. "I got moves," she adds, shrugs, and grabs a little bag of mayonnaise to spread over her fries.

He's staring at her hands quite intently as she squirts the mayonnaise all over her French fries; he's never seen anyone eat French fries with mayonnaise before. "I can't eat ketchup. Allergic, remember?" Leighton answers his unspoken thoughts, and licks some mayo off her thumb. "And—wait, is this something the great Spencer Reid doesn't know?" she asks, momentarily distracted from her fries. Is this her chance to teach _him_ something for a change?

"Know what?" Reid frowns, and feels almost insulted.

"French fries originate from Belgium," Leighton says, and bites down on a fry lathered in mayo. "And they traditionally eat it with mayonnaise."

Reid smiles to himself while he steals one of her fries. Leighton would have offered, but she didn't think the combination with coffee would be in any way alluring. "Why are they called French fries?" he asks. Unfortunately, his knowledge of Belgium only extended as far as knowing about the 1995 child molester case.

"Because during World War Two, when Americans went to Europe, the Belgian Army spoke only French," Leighton says. She can be quite knowledgeable when she needs to be.

* * *

><p><strong>(2)<strong>

She never stops him talking. The rest of the team will often say 'Reid' or give him one stern look that tells him to shut up. But Leighton never does either of those things. He wonders if that's because she's just not a talker – well, neither is he, but there's a difference between when he's reciting literal passages from books, and attempting to make casual conversation – or if she actually likes what he has to say.

Right now he thinks it must be the latter, because Morgan walked away after five minutes, and Leighton has been listening to his monologue for the better part of twenty minutes, ever since they left the theatre, and are now ascending the three flights of stairs up to her apartment. When he finally finishes, concluding that the Death Star could never have been built in the nineteen-year time span George Lucas purported, she only looks at him, seems to think her answer through, and doesn't even come close to making fun of him.

"You do know that _Star Wars_ takes place _once upon a time, in a galaxy far away_, right?" Leighton says. He never expected Leighton _not_ to have seen _Star Wars_ (because really, who hasn't seen _Star Wars_?), but to come up with an answer like that seriously surprises him. He also has nothing to counter that argument with. "Considering today's technology is counter-active and might just make you a fanboy, Dr Reid."

"A what?" he frowns.

"A fanboy," Leighton repeats, but realizes fast that this is another one of those popular culture terms not present in any of his books. "You know, for a guy this into _Star Wars_ and _Star Trek_ you don't know much about the actual culture out there." She doesn't tell him she thinks that's absolutely adorable. He's interested in the science, she can respect that.

"I don't even have email," Reid says. Leighton smiles: _was that an attempt at humor?_ she wonders, but isn't about to question it. "How do you know so much about it?" Reid asks.

"My brother," Leighton says. "He's only a year older than me. He collected figurines and official merchandize when he was younger." The small age difference between her and her brother Benjamin made it easy for her to keep up. "He never misses an opportunity to recommend new things."

"In that case you might want to check out _Mr Nobody_?" Reid says, both of them coming to a halt in front of Leighton's door. "It's about a guy who's able to live out every possible permutation of his life, ultimately not even knowing which one is real. It's really—"

"Reid," Leighton says, not to shut him up, because she quite enjoys hearing him talk and be passionate about something. But they'd agreed not to make this night too long – they'd both just gotten back from a case a few hours ago, and they could do with some sleep.

"—impressive how much science actually went into it. The director's actually quite—"

"_Reid_," Leighton presses.

Reid takes a breath and stops speaking. "What?"

Leighton takes a step closer to him slowly; he feels his whole body going fidgety and awkward and his heart starts beating faster, but he manages to stay put. Leighton grabs his tie, gently pulling him down. Reid doesn't struggle, he doesn't even think about it, but leans in, until Leighton's lips press up against his. He breathes in strong, and closes his eyes.

Leighton pulls back after only a few seconds.

It's the closest she's come to telling him to stop speaking.

"What was that for?" Reid asks, slightly stunned and staring down at Leighton, still half hunched over.

Leighton smiles and bites down on her lip. "For being a nerd," she says, and lets go of his tie, smoothing it down with one hand. It's not meant to be an insult, far from it, she quite likes nerds, and she hopes Reid knows that. Maybe she was just looking for an excuse to kiss him.

* * *

><p><strong>(3)<strong>

He knows he never should have called her. Leighton had cooked for him, just like she'd said she would, but his head is still spinning from this last case in Texas, and he can't forget Adam Jackson's face. _Amanda_ Jackson's face.

"Is something wrong?" Leighton asks, making him snap back to reality. She's cuddled up on the couch right next to him. "You've been quiet all night."

"I'm fine, it's just—" he blurts out in one breath, and frowns. "This last case—" He feels his chin tremble, so he takes another breath, attempting to gain control of his emotions. "It brought back some bad things." He knows saying that will be enough for Leighton to understand.

"I'm sorry," Leighton says softly. Reid goes quiet again. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asks carefully. She doesn't want to insist too much in case he really doesn't want to talk, but she knows for herself that talking can help.

"I—" Reid frowns, but falls silent again.

"It's okay. You don't have to," Leighton says, and gets up from the couch. She grabs their plates off the coffee table and carries them to the kitchen. When she gets back Reid is still in the exact same position on the couch, staring out in front of him.

"Did you know that Dilaudid is five times stronger than morphine?" he asks. Leighton has no idea how to respond to that; she sits down slowly next to him, and lets him talk. "Tobias Hankel, he— he injected me with it when he—" She's surprised to hear him say the name at all, she knows how hard it can be to bring all that up again, to remember the trauma, to conjure it up with words rather than it unexpectedly hitting you. "He was protecting me from his father."

Leighton knows Tobias Hankel suffered from dissociative identity disorder. "This kid today—" Reid stares down at his own hands.

"He got to you," Leighton says. She knows what it's like, to recognize something in a victim, to be able to relate to others in ways you couldn't before. She thinks that might be one of the reasons Reid and her get along so well; Leighton knows it's really more than that, but it's part of it.

"I couldn't save him."

"Like Tobias?" Leighton asks, growing more confused.

"Do you still—" Reid swallows hard. "Do you still think about—that day?"

The question isn't completely unexpected, but it still manages to catch her off guard. Of course she remembers the day Nick Mumford stabbed her, and she knows that Reid remembers the days he spent with Tobias; how can anyone forget something like that? But it's more than that. There's a part of you that's never the same, that nags at you— like whenever she avoids looking at herself in the mirror, afraid she will see that scar running across her body. It's something she will always carry with her. Just because Reid's scars are invisible that doesn't mean they're any less damaging.

"Yes," is all she answers, but she's sure Reid can decipher the bigger meaning behind the one simple word.

"I tried to make it go away," Reid says hesitantly. He tries to look at Leighton but fails.

There are only two things Reid hardly ever talks about: his mother's schizophrenia and his brief drug addiction. But sometimes it's in the things people don't say. Leighton knows how that works, the reasoning behind it, the tremor you feel, but refuse to show anyone.

She wants to say something. Something meaningful. She wants to string together a sentence that will convey how she understands, how they all have ghosts that live inside them, and the only thing they can try to do is accept that there are things beyond their control. But she can't find the right words to say it. So all she does is reach over, and takes hold of Reid's hand.

* * *

><p><strong>(4)<strong>

"You didn't like it?" Leighton asks, a slight incredulity in her tone. "What was wrong with it?"

"What _wasn't_ wrong with it?" Reid asks, but most of the strength of his argument disappears when Leighton hooks her arm in his. It's raining by the time they walk out of cinema, and she walks close to him, underneath the protection of the umbrella he's holding up. "You do realize that once something is positioned inside a black hole the gravitational pull increases exponentially."

"Well, I do now," Leighton says.

"The Romulan ship should have been torn to shreds," Reid continues, because he's stopped worrying about how far he can go with these things, not when Leighton is involved. If anything, her giggling at his geek-speak (Garcia's words) only encourages him. "The Enterprise as well!" he says. "Ejecting the warp core and blowing it up wouldn't have propelled the ship _out_ of the black hole."

"No?" Leighton frowns, genuinely, because that's one of the things she thought was quite accurate.

"Explosions create blast waves on Earth, because there's gravity here," Reid explains, the umbrella wobbling from left to right because he's trying to make hand gestures as well, but with one arm holding up the umbrella and the other held by Leighton, there isn't much room to move. "But there's no gravity in outer space. There's no _air_ in outer space. An explosion wouldn't have done anything." He looks at Leighton, and she's smiling brightly. "Wh—" he feels his mouth sliding into a crooked smile. "What's wrong with sticking with the original?"

"This movie created an alternate reality," Leighton says. She actually quite enjoyed the movie. "Why not just review it on those merits? JJ Abrams reinvented _Star Trek_ for the next generation of sci-fi lovers. Think of the children, Spencer," she jokes, and Reid finds himself smiling rather than arguing.

They continue on in the rain in silence.

He thinks she has shutting him up pretty much down to an art.

* * *

><p><strong>(5)<strong>

He'd set out to look for Leighton when Emily and Morgan weren't looking; they would ask too many questions he didn't want to answer. He shouldn't need to justify himself every time he takes Leighton out, or feel the need to disclose every detail of what went on between them. Sure, his team is his family, but he's not the kind of guy to divulge such personal information on the asking. Still, he has to admit he's managed to keep most things about him and Leighton to himself; he wonders if that's because the team has finally realized some things should be private, or because he's able to hide from them better. Maybe it's a bit of both.

He's surprised when he doesn't find Leighton in the bullpen on the other side of the hallway. This bullpen is pretty much the mirror image of theirs, though it seems a little more crowded. He's even more confused when he finds Leighton's desk completely empty; the picture of her family is gone, there's no stack of files where there used to be one. "Do you know where Agent Caldwell's team is?" he asks a random desk clerk walking past him.

"They're in LA working a case," the desk clerk answers.

Reid frowns to himself; Leighton had adopted the habit of texting him whenever she had to go out of town. They'd made the agreement not to make any actual dates anymore, but just see where both were at any given moment, because cancelling on each other made them feel bad. And in a way he liked it this way; his mother had called it much too casual for him, but he didn't think there was anything casual about it. Not in the way his mother meant it.

He's back on his way to his own bullpen when he sees Leighton emerging from JJ's office, carrying a large stack of files. "Hey," she says as soon as she sees him, but doesn't seem to pick up on his confusion.

"What are you—?" he asks, because he has a hard time making sense of this. It explains why Leighton didn't text him, but it doesn't explain a whole lot of other things. Didn't he just hear that her team is out of state?

"For a guy with an IQ as high as yours you're slow on realizing we have the same job," Leighton says, trying to keep her tone light, but she's pretty sure she's failing miserably. She's not sure she's up to discussing this with Reid just yet.

"Your team's in LA," he says, pursing his lips. Is there a reason Leighton kept this from him?

"Right," Leighton says, and suddenly sets off walking. He follows her slowly, waiting for her to say something more. "I've been demoted," she says eventually.

"What? Why?"

Leighton takes a deep breath. "I've been replaced by an experienced agent with more potential for growth." Reid recognizes Strauss' vernacular immediately. He knows that after The Frisco Ripper was caught, the media praised Leighton as a hero, while the Director had come down on her and her team hard. He knows that the rest of her team had always blamed her for that. "_I.e._ I am expendable and they don't trust me."

"That's not true," he says carefully, because he knows Leighton sees herself like that and gets defensive when someone tries to tell her otherwise. He doesn't know what to say to her now. Ever since the Mumford case Leighton has felt less and less competent to do this job, but he knows she's been working twice as hard to disprove that. This demotion must have hit her hard.

"Doesn't matter." Leighton shrugs and halts in front of an office; the door is open. "I am now a desk dummy rather than a field agent," she says. She's surprised they haven't taken her gun yet. There's no need for one if she's going to be locked behind a desk all day. "I will spend my days building preliminary profiles for cases the BAU decides not to handle. Hence my visit to JJ."

Reid suddenly notices Leighton's name is on the door right next to them. "You got your own office?" he asks, also in an attempt to dodge the subject.

Leighton laughs and shakes her head, walking into the office. It looks a lot like JJ's, except smaller, but there's an equal amount of files stacked everywhere. "I'm sorry," Leighton says and rubs the back of her neck. "I shouldn't be taking this out on you."

"It's okay," Reid says, picking at the doorframe.

"Is there something you needed?" Leighton asks, sitting down behind her desk. She's not used to him following her down hallways, or him coming to see her at the office at all. Reid's a very private person. They both are.

"I got tickets for the opera tonight," Reid answers, putting his hands in his pockets.

"The opera?" Leighton's eyes go wide.

"You said it's something you've always wanted to do."

Leighton chuckles, and looks up at him. "Do you remember everything I say?" she asks.

Reid tries to contain a smile. "Most of it," he says. "So—"

"I'd love to," Leighton says. Reid nods and turns. "Hey, Spence," she calls out, Reid backtracking the two steps he'd already taken. It's the first time she calls him Spence; up until now only JJ had called him that. He can't say he dislikes hearing it from Leighton. "Thanks," Leighton says.

"For what?" Reid frowns.

"For being you."

* * *

><p><strong>if you can, please let me know what you think!<strong>


	5. Amplification

**author's notes:** so, this chapter happened. i didn't plan on it, but suddenly it was there. i hope you all enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it! thanks so much to all my lovely reviewers! i can't predict when the next update will be, if the muse allows it it could be as soon as next week again, but with school crowding in on my head space it might take a little while longer, i have quite a few Master papers to write!

**characters:** Leighton Tanner (OC), Reid, JJ, Garcia, Morgan, mention of Hotch

**setting:** during 4x24 - _Amplification  
><em>

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

><p><strong>SCARS REMIND US WHERE WE'VE BEEN;;<strong>

**chapter four**

* * *

><p><strong>(1)<strong>

JJ has no idea what she's going to tell Leighton as she slowly walks down the hall. This entire day seems like it's moving in slow motion. From the moment Hotch had briefed her about the Anthrax attack, everything had somehow slowed down around her, and she knows it'll only speed up again once this uncertainty goes away. But when will that be? It was the uncertainty and fear that was so crippling last time, even more than the actual attacks.

She doesn't know how she'll tell Leighton this, despite the experience she has with telling people bad news about their loved ones. This is one of their own in danger, this is personal.

Leighton's on the phone when JJ halts in the doorway of her office. She seems to be on hold, waiting to hear back from someone. "Leigh," JJ's voice cracks.

"Yeah?" Leighton looks up, the phone pressed up against her ear. There are tears in JJ's eyes. Something in Leighton's chest tightens. "What's wrong?" she asks carefully.

"Reid's been infected," JJ says, her voice still shaking. It's been doing that since she talked to Hotch earlier. She can't stop thinking about Henry, out for a walk in the park. It's different for Leighton now, she already knows about the Anthrax threat, but what kind of mother is she if she doesn't at least call Will?

A beat follows and the room goes completely silent. "He—" Leighton starts, but clears her throat. This can't be happening. This _isn't_ happening. "What?" she asks, because maybe she's misheard, maybe it isn't Reid JJ's talking about. But why else would JJ be here?

"He's down at Dr Nichols' lab," JJ says. She'd contemplated not telling Leighton anything, but she has a right to know, especially if Reid doesn't— JJ shakes her head; she can't even think it. "They're hoping there's a cure there." There's hope, there's always hope, she tells herself, but can't bring herself to say it to Leighton.

Leighton clears her throat again, louder this time, and straightens her shoulders. She feels tears stinging her eyes. "Thanks for telling me," she says, because she knows how much JJ cares about Reid as well, how much his entire team cares about him. She's grateful that JJ took the time to come down to tell her.

The man at the other end of the phone calls out her name. "Yes, I'm still here," Leighton says, and sees JJ slowly backing out of the room. She absentmindedly jots a phone number down on the notepad in front of her. "Yes, that's right. Thanks."

Leighton hangs up the phone, slamming the receiver down hard.

And then the world slows down around her.

She tries desperately to breathe around the tightness in her chest – it feels like a fist coiling around her heart – but all it does is bring on more tears. She'd been separated from this all day, just doing her job, because she knows that worrying won't get her anywhere, and even so, her entire family is safe up in Chesapeake. But this—she never stopped to worry about Reid. Not just because she knows he wouldn't want her to, but she never considered—oh God. What if he—?

Leighton closes her eyes and takes in a shuddery breath, wiping at the solitary tear she feels running down her cheek. Should she call him? She wasn't allowed to call friends and family on the outside, but Reid is completely informed. Calling him would just be letting him know she's thinking about him. But is that what he needs right now? Does he really need the extra burden of knowing she's worrying?

She's never dealt with loss like this. She'd held her sister's hand when Joe was in the hospital, she'd talked to her and reassured her and told her everything would be alright. But she knows those are only lies she told Natalie, it's something people tell others who are hurting to make them feel better. No one actually ever knows for sure. Who can really predict these things?

The only other time she felt her heart beating this dully in her chest was when she was lying on Mumford's living room floor, feeling the life leave her with every passing second, every heartbeat a struggle. She couldn't breathe then. She can't breathe now.

The phone starts ringing again, but Leighton pays no attention to it.

Instead, she gets up from behind her desk, grabs the stack of folders she'd just finished reviewing and decides to drop by Garcia's office. Maybe Garcia will have some answers, or maybe she'll be able to comfort her and talk her out of calling Reid. When Leighton arrives at the door though, Garcia doesn't respond, so Leighton opens the door carefully, only to find Garcia in the middle of a telephone conversation.

"What do you need?" Garcia asks over the phone. Her voice sounds sad, but Leighton can tell she's doing her best to hide it. "Oh." Garcia shakes her head, trying her best to come across more cheerful. "Nothing's gonna happen to you," she says. "You're gonna brilliantly find out who did this, and we're going to treat this strain."

Leighton feels her heart drop in her chest, and she takes in a deep breath. Garcia is on the phone with Reid. "Okay. Just give me a sec," Garcia says. Leighton can't make out Reid's half of the conversation, but she can deduce enough to know that Reid is making her record something. Tears spring to her eyes when she thinks about who Reid's message is for. His mother.

"Ready," Garcia says.

The room goes eerily silent for countless of seconds, just the sound of a dozen computer processors humming. "Reid?" Garcia asks carefully, and Leighton waits with bated breath. But instead of continuing a conversation that's breaking both Garcia's and Leighton's heart, Garcia hangs up, right after Reid has done the same on his end.

"Is he—" Leighton starts, and sees Garcia startling in her seat. Garcia twists her chair around to look at her. "Is he okay?" Leighton asks, forcing the words out of her mouth. It's a silly question after the partial conversation she just overheard, but she still needs to hear it from someone. Anyone.

"He will be," Garcia answers, but her voice sounds small and frail. "He's going to do something incredibly clever and Reid-y and he—" Leighton smiles through her tears, as does Garcia. "He'll be okay," Garcia adds, but she knows that no matter what she says, she won't make anyone – including herself – feel better about Reid's situation.

The phone rings. "I have to take this," Garcia says. Leighton nods, and turns. "Leigh?" Garcia calls back. Leighton halts in the doorway and turns her head. "I'm sure he'll call you too," Garcia says.

Leighton only nods again.

She knows Reid won't call. When they're out there the job comes first.

* * *

><p><strong>(2)<strong>

The next day everything is different. There aren't any soldiers running around anymore, and Leighton would almost dare to say the offices look abandoned. There's still a lot of paperwork to be done, but she figures that quite a few people had taken some time off to spend with their loved ones. She knows that when she sees Agent Hotchner leaving early, he's going to visit his ex-wife and son. JJ had come in later than usual this morning to take Henry out for a walk in the park herself. Morgan had spent most of the day at the hospital with Reid.

Leighton spends most of her day buried in files, typing up reports and making phone calls to coordinate and centralize all the information about the Anthrax attack. Garcia had stormed into her office yesterday the moment she'd found out Dr Kimura and her team had found an antidote. Leighton had never felt greater relief. She'd decided against calling the hospital – Reid wouldn't be awake yet and Morgan was at his side after he'd helped Hotch apprehend the UnSub.

Then this morning Garcia had all but _skipped_ into her office to tell her that Reid was conscious, and that he would be okay. Four other people had been saved. Leighton had been tempted to call, again, but she knew Morgan was by Reid's side, and that sort of reassured her. She finally calls Reid when the busy workday is over.

"Hey," Reid says when he picks up the phone.

"Hey," Leighton says, relieved to hear his voice. "How are you feeling?" she asks.

"It's safe to say I've had better days," Reid answers. "Why are you calling?" he asks and frowns to himself, but what he really means to ask is why she doesn't just come by. Morgan had gone for a few minutes to get himself more coffee.

"Because I'm guessing Morgan is still there? I wasn't sure if you wanted me to—" Both of them have always been reluctant about anyone knowing they're dating. The fraternization rules aren't very clear, and none of them are official, but dating colleagues is generally dissuaded from higher up. "Anyway, I just wanted to make sure you were alright." Leighton shrugs, without realizing Reid can't actually see it.

"I am, thanks."

"So I'll—I guess I'll see you later," she almost stutters. Talking about her feelings had become difficult enough as it was, let alone over the phone. She could tell him that she'd been so very worried, scared even, but what good would that do now? "We'll get some decent food once you're out of the hospital."

"I don't know, the Jell-O's pretty good," Reid jokes. "But I could do with some good Indian food."

Leighton laughs mildly. "Well, you sound healthy in any case. I'll call again tomorrow."

"Okay," Reid says. "Bye."

Leighton sits back in her chair, and sighs. Now that all the pressure's gone, strangely, she feels even worse than yesterday. She'd been able to keep her anxiety at bay throughout the day, because there was so much paperwork to get done, but now that things have calmed down and she's about to head out, she can feel her heart beating faster in her chest. It's only then that she realizes how close she actually came to losing Reid. It hits her quite unexpectedly, maybe because she just spoke to him on the phone, but she feels sick to her stomach about it.

Leighton shakes her head, willing herself to feel better, because everything _had_ worked out okay. Things could have been so much worse, but Reid was fine, four other people had been saved, and they'd caught Brown. She closes all the open folders on her desk, and logs out of the computer system. Maybe it's best if she went home and relaxed, try to forget all of the chaos for a while.

"Are you on your way out to see Reid?" JJ is standing in her doorway when Leighton looks up.

"Uhm, no." Leighton frowns as she gets up from behind her desk. She grabs her bag and puts her stuff away. "I just talked to him on the phone."

"You know, Leigh, Spence might not always say this," JJ says. She seems calmer than yesterday. Everyone seemed calmer today, "Or he might not even say it at all. But he cares about you." Leighton thinks it's curious how JJ is the only one on the team that knows about Reid and her. She thinks that's because JJ knows him best, not because Reid told her. He hasn't told anyone except for his mother.

"And I really care about him," Leighton says, and puts on her coat.

"Then what's stopping you?" JJ shakes her head.

It's becoming a recurring theme in her conversations. No one seems to understand that she's just a private person, and in combination with Reid that might have become something more extreme, but what can she really do? Her brother knows she's dating someone— apparently there was something in her voice, and he had found it curious when his baby sister had recommended a sci-fi movie he hadn't even heard of yet. Natalie hadn't really cared about who she was dating. Her parents had no idea.

"We're not like that, JJ," Leighton answers, turning off the light on her desk, and fiddling with her car keys. So Reid and her aren't overtly affectionate when they're out in public. It's less an issue when they don't know the people around them, but no one on Reid's team would ever catch them kissing or anything. "It's just how we are." And it's not just Reid, it's part of how _she_ is as well.

JJ turns to leave, and Leighton suddenly finds herself locked in place. She can't know what JJ is thinking now, but for some reason she feels the need to explain herself. "Doesn't mean I wasn't scared, JJ," she says, her voice shaky. Being private people doesn't make Reid or her emotionless.

"Good night, Leighton," JJ says, and leaves Leighton alone in her office. Leighton releases the breath she didn't realize she was holding, and leans back against her desk. It's the closest she's come to admitting anything to anyone and she finally understands why Reid _might _have confided in JJ. She has a way with people.

The phone on her desk starts ringing, but she lets it ring until it connects to central dispatch. Her work day is done, she tells herself, she's going home, curl up on the couch with some left-over mac and cheese and watch a movie. She's not going to worry about anything else until the morning.

But there's something nagging at her as she drives home, something she can't even properly describe. It'd settled in her chest from the moment she'd heard the news that Spencer was going to be alright and no matter what she told herself, it wouldn't leave her. She doesn't know what it is, this thing that had accompanied her relief. It's some sort of anxiety, it had her nerves completely shot and has her on edge.

There's a bookstore she passes on her way home, and she parks in front of the store for no apparent reason. It's like she's drawn to it beyond her control. She goes inside and walks over to the section with the newest books; she knows that Spencer will have read anything else.

There's still hesitation rippling through her when she's in the elevator at Walter Reed hospital, on her way to Spencer's room. She watches the elevator doors slide open, and she waits too long. The doors are closing again, but Leighton wills herself forward, and puts her arm between the doors, forcing them back open. She takes a deep breath, and for some reason tears fill up her eyes. _Spence is okay_, she tells herself over and over again, but it isn't until rounding the corner, and seeing him sit up in bed in the distance, that she feels the weight around her heart lifting.

She smiles to herself, and shakes her head when she sees Reid take notice of her, waving at her from across the hallway.

"I thought you weren't going to come," Reid says when she walks into his room.

Leighton just walks straight over to him, puts a hand on his cheek and pulls him in for a kiss. It isn't until her lips touch his that she realizes this is what she needed. She needed to see with her own two eyes that Reid was okay, that he'd make it through this unscathed, that they'd still have time to argue about silly sci-fi movies and she'd hear him spout random facts about things she doesn't even think about.

It's only the second time they kiss, and Reid's completely aware that there are nurses and orderlies walking around staring at them, but for the first time in his entire life he doesn't care. He digs his fingers in Leighton's curly hair and pulls her in again when he feels her pulling back, her lips parting against his. Just yesterday he'd thought he was going to die, and he'd been scared, more scared than he cares to admit even to himself.

"I changed my mind," Leighton whispers when she pulls back. It's when he looks at her again that he notices the tears running down her cheeks. "Sorry," she says, and wipes her tears away with both hands before sitting down in the chair next to his hospital bed. He's surprised to see her cry at all, to see her wear the emotion so outspokenly on her face, but he can't look away. He's never seen her cry, and he didn't think he ever would.

He hasn't made himself any illusions: Leighton and him don't work the way that 'normal' couples do, and even though he might not like the term – after all, when has he ever had a _normal_ day in his life? – he knows that there will come a time when Leighton will heal, will be able to look at her scar in the mirror and want something intimate from him that he might not be ready to give her. Or who knows, it might be the other way around. They're both a little damaged.

"I brought you some books, in case you felt like reading," Leighton says without looking up at him. She grabs the bag of books, and puts it down on the bed.

He opens the bag, but only to spare her his prying eyes while she composes herself.

Down the hallway, Garcia and Morgan step out of the elevator, and are on their way to Reid's room.

"Whoa whoa." Morgan stops Garcia the moment they round the corner and catch eye of Reid and Tanner together. Leighton is sitting by Reid's bedside, deeply engaged in some kind of conversation. They can actually hear Leighton laughing from where they're standing. "When did that happen?" Morgan asks.

"You didn't know?" Garcia asks, staring intently at Leighton and Reid. She smiles to herself and feels her heart flutter; their baby boy is growing up.

"You mean you _did_?" Morgan asks.

"I heard whispers." Garcia shrugs. JJ might have let slip a thing or two unintentionally. After that it wasn't difficult to watch both Reid and Leighton and come to her own conclusions.

"Well, I'll be damned." Morgan shakes his head. "I can't believe he didn't tell me." He knows that Reid will never open up about these things unless he's forced to, and he seems to be handling himself just fine, but he would've at least liked to be in the loop. Still, he won't rub it in today, not with Reid still recovering.

Morgan takes a step forward. "Where do you think you're going?" Garcia asks, pulling at his arm. Morgan points at Reid's room. "Oh no, my dove, we're leaving those two love birds to their business."

* * *

><p><strong>if you can, please let me know what you think!<strong>


	6. What Are We Doing?

**author's notes:** a more case-focused (and longer!) chapter, because the idea of it wouldn't let me go. i hope i don't shatter anyone's dreams/hopes with this chapter. it just felt like the natural progression to the story, but i'm far from done. i hope you all like it! super-special thanks to **Inwenalas** for helping me out on this one, and stopping me from making a continuity mistake!

**characters:** Leighton Tanner (OC), Reid, JJ, Morgan, Prentiss, Rossi, Chief Strauss, mention of Hotch

**setting:** after 5x01 - _Nameless, Faceless  
><em>

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

><p><strong>SCARS REMIND US WHERE WE'VE BEEN;;<strong>

**chapter five**

* * *

><p><strong>date:<strong> May 22nd-26th, 2009

**(1)**

"Leigh." JJ pops her head into Leighton's office. Leighton looks up from her papers. "Reid needs you in the conference room."

Leighton frowns. "In the—" she says, but JJ is gone before she has the chance to finish the sentence. Reid had texted her not ten minutes ago that he'd caught a case and he'd probably be gone for a few days. What could he need her for? Leighton shakes her head, gets up from behind her desk, and walks over to the conference room.

When she gets there, Morgan and Prentiss are already there with JJ, and Prentiss is helping Reid sit down in his chair. Reid's crutches are resting against the side of the table. "Reid, what happened?" Leighton asks, her eyes wide in astonishment. It'd been over a week since she'd seen Reid, and he'd been just fine then.

She notices immediately how Reid becomes more cautious in his eye contact with her. "I got shot in the leg?" he says carefully, lowering himself in his chair, and Leighton can already tell by his tone that he expects her to be upset.

"_What_?" Leighton exclaims, maybe a little too loud, but rightfully upset. "When?"

"Last week?" Reid nods, looking around the room precariously. He knows Prentiss, Morgan and JJ are staring at both Leighton and him, and he really wishes they'd _say_ something. He hadn't expected Leighton to make a scene in front of everyone.

"Last—" Leighton shakes her head. _Last week_? Leighton thinks, when he was in Canada? Or right after, when he had that case here in D.C. with the ER doctor?

But before Leighton allows herself to freak out, Rossi joins the rest of the team in the conference room. "Let's get started," he says, and sits down as well. Leighton still has no idea what she's doing there. She knows with Hotch down the team is one member short, but that can't be the real reason behind this.

"Oh, Leighton, show them your necklace," Reid says nonchalantly, almost as if he thinks everything is okay between them and they won't be having a serious conversation about this later. It's the kind of conversation both she and Reid much rather avoid, but he _got shot_. How could he not tell her?

"My necklace?" Leighton asks in confusion, but notices how everyone in the room is staring at her. Besides JJ she's the only one still standing. Leighton reaches inside the collar of her shirt, and pulls out the delicate golden string, finished by a gold pendant.

"It's the same symbol that's on the victims," Emily says.

"Victims?" Leighton frowns, and looks around the room. What is this actually about? She's getting more confused by the second. "What's—" Leighton turns and sees the crime scene photos displayed on the screen behind her. The photos show the bodies of three young girls, the same symbol from her pendant branded upside-down in their foreheads. "Oh my God," Leighton breathes.

"What does the symbol mean?" Morgan asks, leafing through the case file in front of him.

Leighton shakes her head and turns around again, facing everyone. "It's called an Ankh," Leighton says, and thinks that Reid could have easily answered that question as well. "It's the ancient Egyptian symbol for eternal life." But if the team expects her to answer why it was burned into these girls' skin she's just as clueless as they are. As far as symbols go, this one was laden with meaning, but it was fairly harmless.

"Reid tells us you wrote a dissertation on comparative religion?" Rossi asks.

"Yes." Leighton looks at Reid, but he pretends he doesn't see it. It's suddenly becoming clear why she's here; not because Reid wanted her to know he'd gotten shot, but because of her possible expertise. "On neopagan revivals based on ancient Egyptian religion. They all use this symbol."

Rossi seems to think something through for a few moments, and makes a decision within seconds. "You're coming with us," Rossi nods. "I'll clear it with Hotch and Strauss. Get a go-bag ready. We leave in two hours."

Rossi is out the door before Leighton can object or question the order, or say much of anything. JJ hands her the case file and smiles up at her. Everyone else leaves the room moments later, except for Reid, who's struggling with his crutches. Rather than giving him a hand, Leighton just stares at him. "So, I guess we'll be working together again," Reid says when he finally finds his footing.

Leighton's eyes narrow on his face. "Don't think this gets you out of the doghouse," she says.

"Doghouse? Wh—What does that mean?" Reid asks, but Leighton only turns. "Leighton!" he calls after her, but gets no further response.

* * *

><p><strong>(2)<strong>

Reid doesn't have the courage to go sit with Leighton on the jet. There's nothing he can say to her now anyway, with the rest of his team in such close quarters together; neither of them want that kind of attention. After they discuss the case together, he goes to sit by himself with his back turned to Leighton, and he thinks JJ only joins him because she feels sorry for him.

JJ pretends to look through the case file for a good five minutes before she gets tired of watching Reid bite his nails. JJ sighs, throwing the file down on the small table between them, and stares at Reid hard. "What?" Reid asks, acting innocent.

"You didn't tell her you got shot?" JJ asks, an accusation laced straight into her question. It's something unique to JJ, and he suddenly realizes he hasn't heard it used on him all that often.

He doesn't say anything. What can he really say to rationalize this? But he knows he should probably find an answer to that question before talking to Leighton. She's not the kind of girl to lose her temper easily, but he doesn't want to take the risk either.

"Spence." JJ tips her head and she looks at him with the same accusing eyes, just the way his mother would. She leans closer to him across the table and lowers her voice. "She's your _girlfriend_," JJ says. JJ hopes Reid knows that what he did was wrong, despite the fact that he and Leighton don't openly show their affection for each other.

Reid glances back at Leighton over his shoulder, and casts down his eyes. He still isn't sure if what he did was completely wrong, or why he didn't tell her in the first place. "We agreed to take things slow," he says, turning back to face JJ. It's not an explanation, or an excuse. There are things that he can compartmentalize quite easily, like keeping his personal life private and not have that mix with his work. But this is Leighton, and now she's become part of both those aspects in his life. It's not easy. He knows he'll have to figure out where exactly Leighton belongs.

"I'm pretty sure that doesn't apply to you getting shot," JJ says, sitting back in her seat. "How would _you_ feel if Leighton got shot and didn't tell you?" JJ asks, looking at him strongly.

He doesn't even have to think about that question, and it's only when JJ asks him that he realizes just how stupid he'd been. Of course he'd want Leighton to tell him if she ever got hurt—he's not sure he'd be able to respond to it properly, but he'd want to know. Reid quirks his mouth. "How much trouble do you think I'm in?" he asks.

JJ chuckles. "A lot."

Leighton is on the other side of the jet with Morgan, Prentiss, and Rossi. She's nervous for some reason; it's been a while since she's been out in the field. Her left hand lies still in her lap, and she's trying so hard not to focus on it. It doesn't make sense for her to be nervous, she'd come back to work without a hitch and she'd been functioning just fine in the months since she came back. But this is another team, Hotch's team, _Reid's_ team, one she hasn't let down, one that hasn't seen her in this context yet. She doesn't want to mess this up.

"Why do you wear it?" Emily asks, sitting to Leighton's left.

Leighton looks down at the pendant on her necklace and grabs hold of it. "It's a childhood memory," she says, looking at Emily. Morgan, sitting across from her with Rossi, lowers his file to the table. "When I was seven my father took me and my sister to see _Cleopatra_," Leighton says. "I fell asleep half an hour in, but I must have seen it thirty times by now."

"And the necklace?" Morgan asks.

Leighton shrugs. "Thrift store trinket." She remembers being eight years old, on her way home from one of her brother's soccer games, and seeing the pendant displayed in the glass counter of the store. She'd begged her mother for ten minutes straight to get it for her, but it was her father who eventually bought it for her. Her grandmother got her the necklace a few weeks later.

"What could it mean on the bodies?" Rossi asks, looking up from his file, but Leighton knows he's been listening to everything being said.

"The ancient Egyptians buried their dead with it," Leighton says, and looks at one of the crime scene photos again. The victim's hearts were removed, brutally cut out of their chests.

"Mummies have their hearts cut out, right?" Morgan asks and looks at Leighton.

"Actually," Reid says, turning in his seat to join the conversation. "The heart was usually the only organ that was left inside the body? The ancient Egyptians believed that it contained the soul. Even if the actual heart was damaged it was replaced by a heart-shaped gem." He's not worried to say this now, because he knows Leighton wouldn't want their personal problems to come between the work.

"Is that what this UnSub's doing?" Emily asks. "Taking their souls?"

"Could be," Rossi says, sinking away in thought.

Leighton's still looking at the crime scene photos. Something about this scene, hearts missing, the Ankh—it rings a bell somewhere at the back of her mind. She's not entirely sure, but she feels like they're missing something important.

"What is it?" Reid asks, and suddenly everyone is looking at Leighton. She often tells herself she hates it when Reid reads her so easily, but really, she doesn't.

"I'm not sure," Leighton says. "I feel like we're missing something in the methodology."

"You and Reid work on that when we get to the station. Work up a geographical profile too," Rossi says. Part of Leighton wants to protest, but she stops herself, mostly because she wants to do this right and get to the bottom of this profile, and she knows Reid would have difficulty getting around with the rest of the team.

* * *

><p><strong>(3)<strong>

"Do we need to talk about this?" Reid asks carefully, unfolding a topographical map on the table.

"Yes, we do," Leighton answers almost immediately, without looking back at him. She's been staring at the crime scene photos for quite a while now, and the silence – for the first time in his life – is making him uncomfortable. "But not now," Leighton adds.

"Okay—" Reid says, mostly to himself. Leighton turns and walks over to the table; she seems to be completely focused on the case. Reid knows that he shouldn't let his feelings for Leighton affect his work, especially now. He marks down where the bodies were found with a bright red dot, Leighton watching him tentatively.

"Is—" Leighton starts, and draws her finger over the map. "Is this a river bedding?" she asks.

"Looks like," Reid answers. "Why?" He looks up at her.

"I'm not sure." Leighton takes her cellphone out of her pocket, and dials Garcia's number, putting her cell on speaker phone.

"Talk to me, Super Girl," Garcia says as soon as she answers her phone. _Super Girl?_ Leighton frowns to herself and looks at Reid. He only shrugs at her absentmindedly. Leighton knows Garcia has nicknames for the entire team, but she's never earned one herself. It makes her feel kind of proud.

"Garcia, you've got me and Reid," Leighton says, placing her cellphone on the table next to the map. "Could you find out if there was ever a river flowing through the area the bodies were found?"

"Mais oui, ma chère," Garcia says, and both Reid and Leighton hear her typing vigorously. "Looks like there _was_ a river running through that valley, but a damn was raised a few months ago. There are plans to urbanize the area."

"Were all the bodies found west of that river?" Leighton asks. Reid is looking at her with great focus; he realizes what Leighton is asking. He looks at the map again, and having memorized where the bodies were found, knows that the answer will be positive. But what does that mean for the case?

"Just a second," Garcia says. "They were all found—Yup, west, all equal length from the river," she adds, and stops typing. "Why, does that mean anything?" she asks.

Leighton and Reid look at each other, both realizing they've come to the same conclusion. "In ancient Egyptian history people were traditionally buried west of the Nile," Leighton says. She knows Reid probably knows this too.

"Yeah," Reid says. "The Egyptians believed that the souls of the dead would be put to rest with the setting of the sun in the west and rise again in the east to watch over the land."

"Okay, what does _that_ mean?" Garcia asks.

Leighton sighs. "I'm not sure," she says, and turns around to face the board again. "This doesn't make any sense." She shakes her head, and looks back at Reid. "On one hand we have an UnSub who stays true to ancient Egyptian ritual, with the location of the bodies and the symbol on the forehead. He even buries them the same way, which suggests a certain level of respect. But the same respect isn't shown to the bodies. He _takes_ their hearts."

Reid frowns to himself. "Could there be another significance to the hearts?" he asks.

"There's—" Leighton hesitates. Could it be—?

"What?" Reid asks, because this time he's not sure what Leighton's thinking.

"There's a passage in the Book of the Dead—" Leighton says. She knows more about ancient Egyptian history and mythology than her dissertation required, but it had always interested her as a teenager. "—where the dead person has to get his heart weighed."

"I'm almost afraid to ask," Garcia says, her voice shaky. "Why?"

Realization suddenly dawns on Reid. "To determine whether they're worthy of heaven," he says, looking at Leighton. "Not heaven the way we understand it, but _reincarnation_ essentially."

"Garcia, find out everything you can about the victims," Leighton says, and sits down across from Reid at the table. "Records, customer complaints, civil suits, anything you can find." She looks at Reid, and he's staring at her too; she feels herself smiling softly. Reid and her play well off each other. They make an excellent team.

* * *

><p><strong>(4)<strong>

"What does he do with the hearts?" Rossi frowns, having just heard Reid and Leighton's revised methodology in the profile. He's noticed something going on between Leighton and Reid for a few months now, as had Hotch, and it had almost stopped him from taking Leighton with them. Apparently his doubts were irrelevant.

"That's—where it gets even more disturbing," Leighton says.

"_More_ disturbing?" Prentiss' eyes go wide. For some reason this case sickens her more than any other, but she's glad Leighton's here to help them out. She'd found Reid's earlier squirming adorable, and Emily can't help but wonder what's going on between the two of them. But that's a question for later.

"In Egyptian mythology, the dead person gets his heart weighed against the goddess Ma'at, who stood for truth and justice," Leighton explains. When she was reading these things in library books when she was twenty-one, she never thought she'd be reciting it to her bosses one day. "The goddess herself was depicted by an ostrich feather. If the heart weighs more than the feather, you go on to the next life."

"And if it doesn't?" Morgan asks.

"Your heart gets eaten by Ammit, the Devourer," Reid chimes in. "A mythical creature that was part lion, hippopotamus and crocodile. It was called _dying a second time_."

"You think he's eating the hearts?" Rossi asks.

"Destroying them is more likely." Reid nods.

"If our profile is correct, and he's punishing these girls for their sins—" Leighton pauses, and feels a shiver running up her spine. She'd have to agree with Emily on this one— this case is particularly disturbing. "—there's really no reason for him to keep them."

* * *

><p><strong>(5)<strong>

It's not just her hand shaking when she finally gathers the courage to knock on the door; there are nerves rippling through her entire body. Last time she knocked on this door and had a conversation with Chief Strauss she got demoted. She's not looking forward to anything that's about to follow. She opens the door, and walks over to the Chief's desk.

"You wanted to see me, Ma'am?" she asks carefully, hoping her voice doesn't sound as small as she thinks it does.

"Agent Tanner. Yes," Strauss says, only briefly looking up from the papers on her desk. "Have a seat." Leighton lowers herself down to the chair slowly, and waits for countless of seconds for the Chief to say something. After what seems like an eternity, Chief Strauss finally looks up, folding her hands together. "I hear you did great work this week."

Leighton tries not to frown, but she knows she does. She knows this means someone on Hotch's team spoke to her about her field activity, was maybe even forced to. "It was a team effort," Leighton answers, because it's the truth. She doesn't know if Strauss is trying to imply that she worked independently of her team again, like before, or if she's just trying to compliment her work.

Chief Strauss takes off her glasses and sets them down on top of her desk. "Agent Hotchner and Agent Rossi seem to think it's more than that," she says. Leighton looks at her tentatively. Wasn't Hotch supposed to be off duty, recovering? "They've recommended you be put back in the field."

Leighton swears she can feel her heart skip a beat. "Excuse me?" she asks, and blinks. She knows she made a great contribution to the case these past few days, but that was mostly because she knew so much about ancient Egyptian history. It wasn't anything the rest of the team wouldn't have been able to figure out. Rossi had told her earlier she should give herself more credit than that. But her desk duty had been punishment for making a media spectacle of the entire Bureau. Was she going to be put back in the field just on Hotch's and Rossi's recommendation?

"They seem to have great faith in you, Agent Tanner," Chief Strauss says, putting her glasses back on and opening another file in front of her. "Don't make me regret my decision," she adds, and starts reading another file.

"I—" Leighton starts but is at a complete loss for words. She's astounded that Chief Strauss made this decision after it was the Chief herself that had demoted her in the first place, and she's humbled that it was Rossi and Hotch that spoke up for her. "Thank you, Ma'am," Leighton says instead, thinking it best to just leave it at that.

Outside of Strauss' office, Rossi is waiting for her. "Congratulations," he says, walking over to her.

"You knew about this?" Leighton asks. It's curious to her how all these people – who have for all intents and purposes only met her in a work-related situation the one time – already seem to care for her. Part of her thinks it's the profilers in them that pick up on her need to be accepted, but then her old team never did. It seems it's just the way they are, maybe because of everything they've been through together.

Rossi nods. "Hotch and I talked about it." Leighton casts down her eyes and takes a deep breath. Her anxiety has set in again. "I know you're worried about fitting into a new team," Rossi says, and this time it_ is_ the profiler in him that reads her meticulously. Her last team's disregard for her so-called _talents_ is what almost got her killed. Would that be any different in another team? "But every transition is hard," Rossi adds.

Leighton smiles softly. "Yeah."

Rossi puts a hand on her shoulder, and squeezes it lightly. "Good luck, kiddo," he says.

* * *

><p><strong>(6)<strong>

After everything that happened the past week, Leighton would much rather go home and relax, but she knows that if she doesn't clear the air now, things between her and Reid will only grow more tense. The door is unlocked when she tries the handle; Leighton lets herself in silently.

Reid only looks up from his book when Leighton walks into his apartment.

"Muffins," Leighton says, holding up the brown paper bag she just got from the closest coffee shop she could find. She didn't like the idea of showing up just to talk, even though that's exactly what she's doing. The bag with the muffins hits the coffee table with a dull thud.

"Thanks," Reid says, setting his book aside. Leighton takes off her jacket and tosses it on a nearby chair, but she remains standing, her arms crossed tight over her chest. There is yet another uncomfortable silence, but Leighton has no idea what to say. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you," Reid says eventually, his voice breaking through the stark silence.

"Why didn't you?" Leighton asks.

"I knew you'd be upset." Reid doesn't look at her.

"And you thought by waiting to tell me I'd be less upset?" Leighton asks. "What, were you going to wait until it was healed?"

"Are you mad at me?" Reid asks carefully.

"Of course I'm mad at you!" Leighton says strongly, but stops herself from screaming. She could never scream at Reid, even if she was raving mad. She sits down on the couch next to Reid, but keeps her distance from him. "What if—" Leighton starts, but can't actually say it. She'd had these same horrifying thoughts just a few weeks before when Reid got infected by Anthrax. "What if it'd been worse?" She shakes her head and finally looks at him. "Would you've waited a week to tell me?"

"No, I—" He'd tried to come up with excuses, but he'd failed. Maybe he just didn't want Leighton to worry about him, especially after he told his mother, and she'd spend a good ten minutes yelling at him to be more careful. Maybe after seeing Leighton cry over him at the hospital a few weeks ago, and he'd realized how close they were becoming, he wanted to spare her from having to come to his hospital bed again. "I'm sorry," he tells her instead.

"Look—" Leighton straightens herself out on the sofa, and turns to face Reid. "I know I'm not the best at expressing my feelings," she says, and just telling him that is difficult enough. "And neither are you. But can we agree that next time either of us are in _mortal danger_ we tell each other?"

"Okay," Reid contends abashedly. It's a reasonable demand.

"Okay," Leighton reiterates, and nods to herself once.

Leighton settles back in the sofa, and stares out in front of her; she knows neither of them will touch the muffins tonight. A silence settles between them, less comfortable than usual but most of the tension is gone now.

"Leigh—" Reid starts carefully. He doesn't want to say this, because he likes – _loves_ – having her around, and he knows that saying things like this could hurt their friendship. But he has to. "What are we doing?" he asks.

Leighton looks at him slowly; there's hurt reflected in her eyes first, but as soon as the words fully sink in Reid knows she understands what the question implicates. They both knew this was coming, except Leighton's been putting it off, and he secretly hopes that's because she likes his company as well. But they can't keep going like this. They can't keep using each other as excuses to live their lives.

"I don't know," Leighton says softly.

* * *

><p><strong>if you can, please let me know what you think!<strong>


	7. It Feels Like We're Miles Apart

**author's notes:** well, this took me much less time than i had expected. new chapter! yay! thanks to all of you who are reading (but perhaps not commenting), i hope you enjoy the new chapter! each section in this chapter takes place on a different day. thanks to my bestie **Inwenalas** for reading this through!

**characters:** Leighton Tanner (OC), Doctor Roberts (OC), Reid, Morgan, Prentiss, Hotch, mention of Rossi

**setting:** 1st half of season 5_  
><em>

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

><p><strong>SCARS REMIND US WHERE WE'VE BEEN;;<strong>

**chapter six**

* * *

><p><strong>(1)<strong>

The first few weeks after what happened in San Francisco she woke up every night after midnight, the sheets sticking to her skin like warm plastic, and a scream right at the back of her throat. Instead of screaming though, she just lay back in the bed, and cried. She cried for hours, until the very early dawn, until she heard the house waking up around her, and her mother came in the room to help her out of bed. The whole routine – out of bed, shower, getting dressed – took place in complete silence.

Afterwards, her mother would hug her – as would most of her family members throughout the course of the day – and would ask her just one question. "Are you okay?" followed by a second before she went to bed: "You know we love you, right?"

Leighton would always smile, because the love she felt for her family would always surpass anything else she could feel. She'd say "I'm fine," and go sit outside on the porch at first, help around the B&B once she got more mobile. At night she'd always say "I love you too," but what it really meant was _yes, I know, that's why I came home_ followed by watching her sister check on her children, and kissing each of them on the forehead before going to bed herself. Her sister was the last to hug her every night.

The answer to the first question was a lie—she wasn't alright and even if she was she knew she shouldn't be. The answer to the second would never not be true.

The nightmares followed her back to D.C., but Leighton knows they'll never go away completely. She'll carry them with her, just like most of her colleagues are plagued by the horrors they encounter every day in their jobs. She'd gone through the mandatory counseling and given a clean bill of health, but when she returned to the BAU Chief Strauss had insisted she kept it up. Leighton found out about her demotion two minutes after the Chief told her that.

"So, Leighton," Doctor Roberts, her designated Bureau counselor says, crossing her legs. "How is everything?"

"It's been—fine," Leighton answers, but she knows that's not what Doctor Roberts wants to hear. She wants to know about the nightmares, about her scar and whether Leighton's able to look at it in the mirror. Except Leighton also knows that answering those questions truthfully would only earn her more therapy. The nightmares are still there, they're always there, right beneath the surface, waiting to be awakened. And the scar, it's there _on _the surface, but she doesn't know it nearly as well as her dreams. "It's hard work," Leighton continues, because she's realized that _fine_ is too generic a term to describe her state of mind, "—fitting into a new team, being out in the field again."

"Your hand?" Doctor Roberts asks. She's a woman of very few words. Leighton likes that about her.

"Steady," Leighton answers, her elbows resting on her knees.

"And how's Dr Reid?" The Doctor's few words strike a sensitive nerve. Leighton knows that maybe she never should have told her about Reid, but what's the point of therapy if she doesn't talk about the more important things in her life?

Leighton sighs and rubs her forehead. "We decided it was better to stop seeing each other," Leighton says, reluctant to bring up the subject of Reid again. She's talked about him before, but mostly in a more cheerful context. "For now at least."

"Can I ask why?"

Leighton's not sure she can say why. Both Reid and her had justified it fairly well to themselves, just not to each other. Leighton knows she's guided by her emotions; she lets them lead her rather than rein them in from time to time. It had almost gotten her killed. Once upon a time it had almost gotten Reid killed, but he'd learned his lesson. Leighton's not sure she has. "Have you ever met someone at the wrong time in your life?" Leighton asks, but she's not sure what she's trying to say. "Someone who makes you happy, but only because you went through the same trauma?"

"Are you saying you should have met him before your trauma?" Doctor Roberts asks.

"No," Leighton answers immediately. She closes her eyes and takes a breath, opening her eyes again. "Maybe," she corrects, but the word still doesn't feel right. "Maybe we just need more time. We're not—" _synced _yet, Leighton means to say, but doesn't.

"Do you love him?"

Leighton laughs to herself, and draws a hand through her hair. "I care about him," she answers, her words carefully chosen, because if she ever does feel that way about Reid, he'll be the one hearing that first. "A lot," she adds, because it's true.

* * *

><p><strong>(2)<strong>

He catches eye of Leighton getting out of the elevator through the glass doors. It's not polite to stare, he knows that, but Leighton doesn't see him. He doesn't know why he's staring, it's not like him to pine after anything. "Reid," there's a voice behind him, but he doesn't reply immediately. "Hey, Reid!" Morgan's voice, louder this time and Reid finally looks back. "You okay, man?" Morgan asks, but only because he'd seen Reid staring at Leighton. He can't help but wonder what's going on between them now. He assumes they broke up, but why?

"I'm fine." Reid laughs it off uneasily, and pours himself a cup of coffee. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"No, really," Morgan insists, because he doubts Reid has anyone else to talk to about this. They don't have a lot of free time to begin with; Morgan doubts that dating someone with the exact same job can be easy. "Your mind's somewhere else."

"My mind's always somewhere else," Reid frowns, adding more sugar to his coffee than required. He doesn't look at Morgan, he's not up to discussing this with him, or anyone for that matter, even though he knows it could probably help. Still, Leighton is a part of his life he'd prefer to keep separated from his work life.

"Fair enough," Morgan laughs. "Conference room in five," he says.

Reid nods and grabs his cup of coffee off the counter, except he has his crutches to consider as well. He struggles to find his balance for several moments, but eventually it's Emily coming to his rescue that stops him from completely toppling over. She takes over his cup before he manages to drop it. "Thanks," Reid says, suddenly embarrassed.

"Morgan's right, you know," Emily says while Reid turns in the general direction of the conference room. "You seem distracted."

Reid knows he's been distracted. He's managed the coffee-and-crutches routine before without a hitch. His mind is elsewhere, he's just not sure how to get it back in the here and now. He's not too proud to admit that he misses Leighton. He misses talking to her.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Emily asks.

"Not really," Reid answers; he still hasn't moved. "It's—"

"Personal," Emily chimes in. "I get it." As much as they are a tight-knit family, there are things they just don't talk about. And this is Reid after all. "I'm here if you do want to talk."

Reid nods, mostly to himself, and takes a few steps forward, Emily following closely behind with both their coffees. "Do you think people get second chances?" he asks, halting short in his tracks. "In love?"

Emily is taken completely by surprise, but quickly composes herself. "That depends on what happened," she answers conservatively. She's not exactly an expert in relationships, let alone _love_, but she's been hurt often enough to give Reid _some_ advice on this. "And the people. And—whether they can forgive each other." She wonders what happened for Reid to ask her this; she assumes it has something to do with Leighton.

"That's just the thing," Reid says, frowning to himself. "There's nothing to forgive." He shrugs, but with his crutches under his arms the gesture gets lost. There's nothing to forgive because neither him or Leighton did anything wrong. It just feels like they're at different points in their lives. "We just sort of changed. She did." He realizes that sounds as if he puts the blame with Leighton. But he doesn't.

"Into someone you can't love anymore?" Emily asks, but the answer is written all over Reid's face when he casts down his eyes. Emily smiles to herself. She has a hard time seeing it, Reid and Leighton, but she knows none of them show every part of themselves when they're on the job. "Maybe you need to meet each other in the middle."

Reid nods. He understands. Maybe he needs to change too.

* * *

><p><strong>(3)<strong>

The door is open when she raps her knuckles against it, but she still thinks knocking is polite. Hotch is sitting behind his desk, leafing through some paper work, but he responds to her gentle knocks immediately. "Leighton?" he asks, looking up from his papers.

"I wanted to thank you for your field recommendation," Leighton says. She'd already had the chance to thank Rossi, but she owed Hotch just the same.

"You have some ways to go, but you're a good agent and you'll be a great profiler," Hotch says. He finds Leighton's humility charming in a lot of ways, but it's that humility that's keeping her from being a better agent. He hopes getting her in the field again will let her regain some of the confidence she'd lost after getting hurt. "Your talents are clearly wasted behind a desk, Leighton."

No one has ever told her anything like it before, and the compliments make her feel slightly uncomfortable. "Thank you," she says, and turns in the doorway. "Glad to have you back," Leighton adds. She wonders if she'll ever be as good an agent as Hotch or Morgan, or even Reid for that matter. Hotch and Reid had gone through horrible things themselves, but they were back at work as soon as they could. It took its toll on Reid; Leighton hopes it doesn't take too high a toll on Hotch.

Hotch looks at her for a moment, realizing that what each of them went through isn't all that different. Leighton also knows how it feels to have a blade cut through you. "Thanks," he says, not smiling, but doesn't dismiss Leighton's statement either.

She makes her way down to the bullpen again, where Reid has just sat down behind his desk. "Leighton," he says, and smiles.

"Hey." Leighton smiles, and walks over to him, leaning a hip up against his desk. She's happy to know that he's still pleased to see her. "I'm just dropping off some files for JJ," she says, even though she knows she doesn't need to explain herself.

"How've you been?" Reid asks, rocking back in his chair.

Leighton shrugs. "Busy, mostly," she says.

"I heard about that arson case in New York?"

"It was pretty intense." Leighton nods. It's strange how she suddenly doesn't know what to say to Reid. Usually their conversation comes easier, but maybe that's asking too much too soon. They only broke up three weeks ago. Leighton's almost grateful when Morgan joins them in the bullpen. "Man of the hour," she says, and Morgan looks at her. "Congrats on the promotion."

Leighton notices immediately how humble Morgan acts in taking the compliment. It's a big promotion, and Hotch stepping down can't be easy on Morgan or the rest of the team, but Leighton is confident that Morgan will pull this off. And so are Hotch and Strauss, obviously, otherwise they wouldn't have put him in this position. "You too," Morgan says, then looks over Leighton's shoulder. She hadn't noticed Hotch had joined them too, go-bag in hand.

"Reid," Hotch says, and Reid is spurned to action. Morgan grabs both his and Reid's go-bag, and waits for Reid to get up. Reid is struggling with his crutches, so Leighton decides to give him a hand. He doesn't thank her once he really is standing, mostly because Morgan is still there waiting for him. What he really wants to say is something he'll never be able to say, something like _I miss you_, or _maybe we can get together as friends_. Part of him prays he's not too foolish to hope that one day Leighton will speak those words.

"See you around," he tells her instead.

"Yeah," Leighton says, and watches Reid while he makes his way out of the office. She's not too proud to admit that she misses Reid. She misses the sound of his voice.

* * *

><p><strong>(4) <strong>

Her new team isn't all that bad. Of course they know about her background, everyone around here does, but her new boss had made it clear that her past won't get her judged. It would be what she does with this team and how she behaves in this new context that would be important. Leighton knows that statements like that only go so far, because knowing something about anybody can't ever not play part in how they're treated, but she's grateful that her team members are trying.

So she drowns herself in her job the first few weeks she's back in the field. She tries her best to step out of her comfort zone, be more outgoing because trust isn't built overnight. It's not easy, because trust is no longer something she hands out on blind faith, while it really should be. There's no point in trying to gain someone's trust when you can't give it yourself.

"Hey, Tanner, " Agent Steiner calls out from the other side of the bullpen; they're the only ones still working, the others are already packed up and ready to head out. "You wanna go grab a drink with us?" he asks, making his way over to her.

Leighton hesitates for just a moment. There's paper work she could be doing, but right now it seems more important to bond with her team some more, to show to them that she's just any other agent, even though going to bars isn't something she does very often. "Sure," Leighton says. "I'll be right behind." She takes some time to shut down her computer, and grab her things together. For a moment she almost reconsiders going, but thinks it's best she lives up to her promises. She won't have to _get to know_ everyone forever.

When she reaches the elevator, Garcia is just getting on as well. "Hey," Leighton says, and enters the elevator with Garcia by her side. Garcia doesn't say a word. Leighton doesn't think much of it until she notices Garcia is doing everything in her power not to talk to her, clenching her fists by her sides, sighing really loudly. "Are you—" Leighton starts, but isn't really sure what to call it, "—giving me the silent treatment?"

"Yes, I am," Garcia answers in short, staring out in front of her.

_Ah_, Leighton thinks, and realizes fast why she would be getting said silent treatment. "Because of Reid?" Leighton asks still, because she's curious about exactly how much Garcia knows.

"Yup," Garcia answers.

"It was mutual," Leighton says, hoping Garcia isn't genuinely upset with her because she broke up with Reid.

"That's what he said."

Leighton frowns, looking at Garcia sideways. "Then why—"

"Because he never would," Garcia interrupts. Leighton smiles to herself; she'd heard Reid talk about his team a lot, and how they considered each other family. "And because he's family," Garcia adds. Leighton knows she has no right to be jealous of that, but she can't help but feel a little disappointment wash over her. She thought she'd earned at least the sigil of friendship. Garcia sighs, "I didn't mean it like that."

"Yes, you did," Leighton says, and stares out in front of her. She understands why Garcia would do this. She'd do the same for her own brother.

"Yes, I did."

* * *

><p><strong>(5)<strong>

He knows he could go see anyone, or talk to anyone, and that his team is much closer to this than Leighton is. But he has to go see her, because she'll understand, or try her hardest to. It's not fair to give his team such little credit, but maybe they're _too_ close to this. Right now he needs someone to tell him it's okay not to be strong, and that's exactly what his team would demand of him. He understands why, they have to be strong for Hotch and Jack, but right now he can't be.

"Spence," Leighton breathes his name as soon as he comes into her line of sight, her eyes going wide in surprise at first, and then she sees the tears in his eyes. "What's wrong?" she asks, her voice so earnest he finds it chokes him.

"The Reaper," he frowns to himself, not looking at Leighton. He can hear her breathing. "He—" Reid takes a breath and looks up, tears threatening to escape this eyes. Leighton reaches a hand out to him, but stops half-way between them. He wishes she wouldn't. "He killed Haley," Reid says, his voice small and shaky.

Leighton's heart skips a beat in her chest. She knew the team got a lead on Foyet earlier today; the entire office had been in uproar about it. Her work day had been over before any further news had reached her, but how on earth did the Reaper find Hotch's family? Weren't his wife and son in protective custody? "Come in," Leighton says, and lets Reid push past her in the doorway. She takes a moment to compose herself, to be there for Reid now that he needs her, rather than let it get personal.

Still, it'd been difficult not to put herself in Hotch's shoes; getting stabbed isn't something you forget, the feeling of the blade piercing through your skin, your muscles contracting around the sharp edges to give it more resistance, to put up a bigger fight, but have that result in more pain. A murderer whispering in your ear. Feeling your body heat flow right out of you— "I'll make you some tea," Leighton says, and shakes her head. She shouldn't let thoughts like that in anymore, because it was the past and it was far more important to look to the future.

Reid smiles to himself. He loves Leighton's undying belief in how many things tea can fix. He hopes that she knows that, and knows that he's here because he has the undying belief that she can make _him_ feel better.

On her way to the kitchen Leighton suddenly turns and looks at him. "Did you—" she starts, pulling at the ends of her sleeves. She knows it might not be the most important thing right now, but she has to know. "Did you get Foyet?" she asks.

"He's dead," Reid answers. Leighton nods, and releases a breath. She doesn't say it, but she hopes with every fiber of her being that Hotch was the one pulling the trigger. If she'd had her chance two years ago, she'd have taken out Nick Mumford too, rather than have him rot in jail. Knowing that he's still out there, even if he is locked up, scares her more than she's willing to admit.

She makes her way into the kitchen and puts the kettle on. When she gets back to the living room, Reid is still standing, albeit balancing precariously on his cane, his other hand in his pocket. Leighton keeps her distance, even though her body is at war with her mind over this. But she doesn't want to assume she still has the right to his most private space. "Hotch—" she says, but there are so many things she wants to ask. How did the Reaper find Hotch's family? Is Jack okay? But she can't bring herself to ask any of it.

"He's Hotch." Reid shrugs, but Leighton can still see the tears in his eyes, his chin trembling.

She walks over to him, steadfast, and throws her arms around his neck once she's reached him, hugging him as tight as he'll let her. His body shakes against hers when Reid allows himself to feel the full extent of his grief. Leighton realizes she doesn't care much about Reid's concept of personal space; she wants to be there for him whether they're together or not.

* * *

><p><strong>if you can, please let me know what you think!<strong>


	8. They're Onto Us

**author's notes:** 24 alerts to this story and counting, that makes me insanely happy :) i hope everyone is enjoying the story and will continue to do so! special thank you to **yaba** for leaving me an amazing review every single chapter, and super-special thanks to my bestie **Inwenalas** for reading through these chapters and telling me i'm completely delusional from time to time :D

**characters:** Leighton Tanner (OC), Reid, Garcia, Rossi, Hotch, JJ, Morgan, Prentiss

**setting:** near the end of season 5_  
><em>

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

><p><strong>SCARS REMIND US WHERE WE'VE BEEN;;<strong>

**chapter seven**

* * *

><p><strong>date:<strong> May 22nd, 2010

**(1)**

He literally sprints for the elevator doors. Hotch had sent a text just under half an hour ago, but in child abduction cases every minute counts. When he reaches the elevator he ejects his hand between the doors to keep them open. "Leighton," he says when he lays eyes on her, his voice a little more high-pitched than it usually is. He takes a step into the elevator, turns, and stands tall next to her. "Hey—y," he draws the word out longer than he really needs to.

"Hey," Leighton smiles softly.

He hasn't seen her in weeks, months even, when he really thinks about it. It's difficult to keep track these days; they've both been so busy. Leighton's hair is longer than last time he saw her, hanging loosely over her shoulders. He clears his throat too loudly. "The director's got you working this case too?" he asks, his hands closing around the strap of his bag running across his chest. Both of them are staring out in front of them.

Normally he'd ask her how she is, but he knows that would only end the conversation right there; Leighton's never been very forthcoming with her feelings. He's never blamed her for that, after all, he himself isn't very good at expressing his feelings. But he wants to be her friend. Even if they can't be together, or if they're just not ready, he hopes they can still get together and have fun, and treat each other in a civilized manner.

"The rest of the team has psych evals," Leighton answers and shrugs. "Never thought my counseling would have its advantages."

Reid's surprised to hear her talk about her counseling at all, but he's glad she does. Maybe Leighton has decided to try and be good friends too. "Anyone but Strauss, hu?" he asks carefully.

"Exactly." He glances at Leighton sideways, at the gun strapped to her belt at the waist. "Besides, you need all the help you can get," Leighton adds. Reid nods to himself. He smiles, though he's not exactly sure why, and so he frowns and stares out in front of him again.

Leighton feels a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth when she feels Reid's eyes on her, but she quickly composes herself. "I like your hair," she says without moving.

Reid smiles and ruffles through his shorter hair. "Thanks," he says.

The elevator doors slide open, and Reid follows Leighton out. "How long have the boys been missing?" she asks as they make their way to the conference room. It's clear something changes between them – Reid's sure it's visible – as soon as they leave the privacy of the elevator the focus is on the case and nothing else.

"Almost five hours now," he answers, following Leighton closely up the steps to the conference room. The rest of the team is already there, standing, rather than sitting around the table.

"Leighton, thank you for joining us," Hotch says, but cuts right to the chase before Leighton can say anything – Leighton doesn't mind; in her three years in the BAU she's seen too many of these cases already. She knows every minute counts. "Reid, you and Tanner talk to Michael's parents. Go through their statements again. Dave, you and I will talk to Joshua's parents. Prentiss and Morgan, you go check out the abduction site. Garcia, background checks," Hotch says. "I don't have to remind anyone that time is of the essence here."

There's a beat and everyone scatters. "Garcia, could you send me what information we get to my PDA?" Leighton calls after Garcia.

"Consider it done!" Garcia calls back over her shoulder as she marches out of the room.

Leighton wonders if she's still getting the silent treatment or if Garcia is just too rushed to be bothered with any pleasantries. She turns and watches Reid grab together some files scattered across the table. "Look," she starts carefully. "This doesn't have to be awkward." She'd contemplated not pointing it out at all, because Reid-and-her-at-work have a completely different dynamic than they do outside of work, but their short conversation in the elevator _had_ felt tense.

"Awkward?" Reid asks and looks at her, picking at the paper files in his arms. "No. Not at all. Why— why would it be awkward?" But he knows it started off awkward. In some way he's almost happy Leighton brought it up.

"Some people would feel awkward working with someone they dated," Leighton says, and hears someone join them in the room behind her. Leighton sighs and closes her eyes, hoping fiercely that whoever it is hasn't heard too much of their conversation. "Please tell me that's not Hotch," she says, not turning, but looking at Reid for help.

"Just me, Super Girl." Garcia's voice. Leighton releases a breath and turns around. "I forgot my pen," Garcia says and snatches the fluffy pink pen off the round table. She leaves again without saying a word.

"_That_ was awkward," Reid says.

Leighton rolls her eyes and smiles. "Shut up."

Rossi is looking at Reid and Leighton from across the bullpen, while he waits for Hotch to finish some phone calls in his office. "You think it's a good idea to put Reid and Tanner together?" he asks when he sees Hotch hanging up. He watches Reid and Leighton make their way to the elevators. Prentiss and Morgan have already left. JJ is helping Garcia with the background checks, and coordinating with local PD.

"They've proven they can work together without letting their private lives interfere," Hotch says, getting up from behind his desk and following Rossi out the door. He hadn't noticed any tension, and the last case they worked together it was their combined efforts that had corrected the profile. They made a great team. "You think it'll be a problem?"

Rossi thinks through his answer. He knows he should give both Reid and Leighton more credit, they've proven they can work together, but he still feels like he should mention it. "You know they broke up," Rossi says. He's often wondered if he should talk to Reid about it, or Leighton, but then he's reminded neither of them talk about their feelings very easily. And yet, for two people so introverted they had somehow struck up a relationship, or at the very least an unlikely friendship.

"No, I didn't," Hotch says and frowns to himself. Reid has always been the one on his team he's worried about the most; he's the only one without an active outlet for the horrors he sees in this job. Morgan has his properties; Prentiss has always compartmentalized well, but she goes out to have her fun when she can. He has Jack. What did Reid have besides his books? His mother? The fraternization rules or general code of conduct might speak out against work relationships, but he can't see the harm in them. "Do you know why?" he asks, waiting for the elevator.

"Do you really have to ask?"

"No," Hotch answers. Elle once told him that after getting shot, she wasn't the same person anymore. In a way, Leighton and Elle went through similar experiences, but luckily they're not the same people. He wonders if any of them ever met the real Leighton, or if they ever will, and if Reid has managed to catch a better glimpse of her. He hopes so, in any case.

* * *

><p><strong>(2)<strong>

"Please tell me we'll find these kids," Garcia sighs, looking at the missing boys' pictures on her computer screen. They're only five years old. She wonders how many more of these cases she can take before it becomes too much. Before she gives up on this job.

"We'll find them, Garcia," JJ answers, and puts a hand down on Garcia's shoulder. "Don't worry."

The phone rings, the caller ID telling Garcia the call is from Leighton. "Speak, Super Girl," Garcia says as soon as she hits the speaker button.

"Garcia, I need you to find an address for a Gonzalo Lopez," Leighton says. "He's a janitor at the boys' school."

"Just—a—second. Last known address puts him in 24 Woodrow Avenue."

"Thanks, Garcia," Leighton says, and hangs up.

JJ waits a moment and looks at Garcia. "So—you're done with your silent treatment?" she asks carefully. She understands why Garcia had taken her distance from Leighton, she's trying to protect Reid, but it's been several months now, and Leighton wasn't at fault here. Neither was Reid.

"We're working," Garcia answers, even though she understands what JJ is getting at. "Doesn't mean I've forgiven her." She'd already had this conversation with Morgan; he believed Leighton just used Reid to make her feel better. He'd worded it differently, but that's what it boiled down to. Garcia isn't sure what to think of any of it.

JJ sighs. "You do know they're still friends, right?"

Garcia turns her chair. "No, I don't know that," she says, looking at JJ strongly. "I never see them together. Reid _never_ talks about her." How can she know what's going on? How can she protect Reid like a brother when he won't say anything even _when_ she asks him about it?

"That's because he's Reid," JJ says, lowering her file to her lap.

"Then how do you know for sure?"

"I have coffee with her from time to time," JJ shrugs. And the more she talked to Leighton, the more she understood what had brought her and Reid together in the first place. JJ recognizes a lot of Reid in her. Too much even, because she's fairly certain that's what drove them apart.

Garcia feels partly insulted, knowing JJ and Leighton hang out outside of work, but she _had_ been ignoring Leighton on purpose. "Did she tell you why they—?"

"No," JJ answers concisely. "But it's not hard to guess."

Far across town, Reid and Leighton are leaving Michael Fisher's home. "What is it?" Reid asks, watching Leighton stare down at her phone. They're walking back to the car, about to head out to Gonzalo Lopez's last known address.

"Why does she call me Super Girl?" Leighton asks. She knows Garcia has nicknames for almost everyone on the team, and she's done _something_ to make her earn one of her own, but she can't help but wonder why exactly it's this one. She looks at Reid, but he's avoiding her eyes. "Tell me," Leighton insists as they halt in front of the car.

"Because of what you survived," Reid answers carefully, squinting against the sunlight. He doesn't want to say it, but he'd rather have Leighton hear it from him.

"Oh," Leighton breathes, but remains silent. What does that make Garcia, she wonders, after surviving a gunshot wound to the chest?

"You don't have to be okay with it."

Leighton shrugs. "I don't mind," she says, but Reid can tell the lie. Leighton knows he can.

* * *

><p><strong>(3)<strong>

After they find the boys, both of them alive, he finds Leighton in the conference room. They'd set up their evidence boards there, and now Leighton's staring at the pictures of the two boys. He walks over to her in silence, hands in his pockets. Leighton's arms are crossed tightly over her chest. He only notices the tears in her eyes when he's standing next to her.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asks softly. Leighton shakes her head and puts her hands on her face. "Leighton?"

Leighton sniffles loudly, clears her throat, and wipes a solemn tear off her cheek. "I'm sorry," she laughs uncomfortably. She's not entirely sure why suddenly this case got to her, maybe it was because the boys reminded her of her nephews. Rossi told her that there will always be cases that will get to her; the day she stops caring is the day she should quit.

"We saved lives today," Reid says. Leighton nods, but a fresh wave of tears hits her. "Come here," Reid says, and pulls her closer to him to hug her.

Leighton only allows him to put his arms around her for a few seconds; he thinks it's probably because they're at work. "I'm okay," Leighton says, and moves back. "Really." She takes a deep breath.

It's silent for a few moments.

"Buy you some dinner?" Reid asks carefully.

Leighton laughs, and coughs. "Sounds good," she nods.

Outside in the bullpen, Prentiss is watching Reid and Leighton closely. She thinks they look really good together, even if she's not entirely sure how they mesh in the first place; she doesn't know Leighton well enough for that. "Why do you think they broke up?" she asks Morgan, turning around when he doesn't immediately answer her.

"Emily, come on," Morgan says, zipping up his bag. "It's not hard to profile. Leighton went through a serious trauma and she found kinship in Reid. Once she healed it was only a matter of time."

Prentiss raises an eyebrow. "You're a real romantic, you know that?"

"What?" Morgan huffs. "It makes sense." But all Prentiss does is turn her head again and look towards Reid and Leighton, now leaving the conference room together. "We all need someone to take care of us when we're hurting." He moves to stand next to Prentiss. "I'm not saying they don't care about each other." In fact, he thinks Reid and Leighton care more about each other than either of them want to admit, maybe even more than anyone knows.

"I think you're wrong," Prentiss answers. "I think one day they'll both realize what they're missing."

"We'll see," Morgan concedes. This isn't an argument he cares to win or lose. He follows behind Prentiss to the elevators. Reid and Leighton are waiting for one as well. "Reid, Tanner, you wanna grab a drink with us?" Morgan asks.

Reid and Leighton exchange careful glances. Prentiss smiles to herself when she sees Reid frown—he always does that when he's about the say something he's not entirely sure how to put in words. "We're actually going to order in?" he says, nodding to himself, and then looks at Leighton.

"You guys have fun," Leighton says.

* * *

><p><strong>if you can, please let me know what you think!<strong>


	9. Future Present

**author's notes:** this chapter has a more artistic ring to it than others (i'll admit i had entirely too much fun) but i've been assured that it's still IC for everyone. hope you all enjoy! once again, special thanks to everyone commenting on this story (HI NEW PEOPLE!), it makes me ridiculously happy. super-special thanks to **Inwenalas** for telling me i'm being ridiculously delusional :D

**characters:** Leighton Tanner (OC), Reid, Prentiss, Agent Steiner (OC), mention of Morgan, Garcia & JJ

**setting:** stretches from 6x02 - _JJ_ to 6x18 - _Lauren  
><em>

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

><p><strong>SCARS REMIND US WHERE WE'VE BEEN;;<strong>

**chapter eight**

* * *

><p><strong>(1)<strong>

**date:** September 2010

"So wait, they just forced her out?" Leighton asks, sitting down next to Prentiss at the corner table. "Can they do that?" Leighton asks, and takes a sip from her beer. Reid is sitting across from her, and he's been staring at his drink in silence the entire time they've been there.

"Apparently," Emily answers, watching Morgan trying to comfort Garcia at the bar. They'd all taken JJ leaving pretty hard. Rossi had decided to deal with it on his own, and Hotch had to be home for Jack. Garcia had invited Leighton along when they'd run into her at the elevators— Emily hadn't seen Garcia and Leighton exchange words in ages, but now it seemed Garcia was willing to forgive and forget for the sake of keeping something close.

Emily turns back to see Leighton raise her beer bottle to her forehead. "Are you okay?" Emily asks. Apparently a suspect had forcefully resisted arrest earlier today and elbowed Leighton square in the face: her right eye and the area around it is black and blue.

Leighton winces when the cold bottle connects with her bruises. "It's just a bump to the head," she says, but looks to be in a considerable amount of pain.

"Looks more like a right smack. Should you even be drinking?" Emily asks, because she saw Leighton pop a painkiller earlier.

"One beer won't hurt," Leighton smiles, putting the beer to her lips again. Emily concedes and laughs too, but it's too much for Reid. He gets up and leaves the table.

"Wh—" Emily breathes, watching Reid walk out of the bar. Leighton stops her from getting up.

"I'll talk to him," she says, and gets up from behind the table. She sighs to herself, a painful throb running across her forehead when she makes her way outside and the cold air hits her. She finds Reid standing right outside on his own, far enough away from the smokers to avoid the smoke. "Hey, you okay?" Leighton asks, even though it's a silly question. No one around that table was okay.

"No, I'm not," Reid answers, and she's only partly surprised to hear him admit it so fast –albeit very quietly. "They just took her, Leigh," he continues, hands buried in his pockets and shuffling his feet. In any other situation Leighton would think it adorable. "Without a word, without warning. She's just gone."

"You'll still see her, Spence." Leighton takes a step closer to him. "She's your friend. You're Henry's godfather. She's not gone."

Reid averts his eyes. "I don't expect you to understand," he says softly. Leighton instantly knows what he means: how can she understand when she's never felt part of a team, when she's never allowed herself to trust a team to have her back?

"Ouch," she says, because admittedly, it really hurts, but she doesn't say anything more. It wouldn't be fair to make this about her own issues.

"I'm sorry," Reid sighs, but keeps staring at his feet.

"It's okay." Leighton shakes her head, and walks over to him. She lifts a hand and drags her fingers through his hair; she really does like it this short. Reid looks at her sideways, surprised by this sudden show of affection. Some part of him wants to have this all the time, this private connection, this _touch_ even. "It'll be okay."

He doesn't believe her, and he doesn't even believe it when a year from now JJ announces her return to the BAU, but he knows Leighton has to say these things. He knows that deep down he needs to hear them.

* * *

><p><strong>(2)<strong>

**date:** October 2010

"The Edgar Allan Poe puppet theatre or the phantasmagoria," Leighton says, Reid following her to her desk. It's really late, and they're nearly the only two people there. "Both very tempting," Leighton adds, and sits down at her desk, flicking on the lights.

"But?" Reid asks.

"I'm not really in the mood for Halloween this year," Leighton answers, but avoids looking at him. Instead, she rearranges a stack of files on her desk that doesn't really need rearranging.

"But it's Halloween," Reid says carefully.

Leighton turns and looks up at him, at his big brown innocent eyes, and laughs. "Yes," she smiles, "and I know how much you love it." Halloween had always been a pretty important and fun holiday in her family, and it still is, but it's not happening this year. "So don't let me spoil your fun."

"Spoil my—" Reid starts, but holds back. Doesn't she want to spend time with him? He knows Leighton isn't as crazy about Halloween as he is, but she likes the holiday. Plus, he has extra tickets for both the shows. "Why would—why would you spoil my fun?" He loves hanging out with Leighton, not just because they share so many interests. He's fairly certain that Leighton enjoys his company as well. So what's going on?

Leighton rubs her temple. "I'm not in the mood for ghost stories right now, Spence," she sighs and opens a drawer with a single large case folder. She takes it out and puts it on top of her desk. "I have a lot of reading to do."

"The Mumford case?" he asks when reading the name of the file. _Of course_, he thinks, the trial's been running for a few weeks now. That explains why he's seen so little of Leighton lately and why she's so tense. Leighton has to go through the entire case again, remember the details, and go through her statement in front of judge and jury. She'll be in the same room as the man that scarred her.

"I have a court date next week," Leighton says, her voice at once sad and filled with fear. "They want me to testify."

Reid frowns to himself. "You don't want to?" he asks. Wouldn't Leighton want to see this man brought to justice and pay for his crimes?

"I was hoping I wouldn't have to," Leighton raises her voice slightly, and sits back in her chair. "Avoid the circus." She shakes her head and closes her eyes. Reid wishes he had the words to make her feel better, or tell her that he understands. He hopes his moment's silence does that for him.

"When are you flying out?"

"Thursday. I'm testifying Friday morning."

He books plane tickets to San Francisco on Wednesday, and even clears it with Hotch a few days before—but when Thursday comes a case comes too, and Hotch asks him to stay behind. Leighton will find out about his intentions from Garcia, since she's the one who booked the tickets, but she never mentions it to Reid.

When the day of Mumford's execution comes by two years later – the worst day for Leighton really – Reid isn't there with her either. But he's with her in thought. And he's there for her when she knocks on his door late at night, tears streaming down her cheeks. He holds her all night, and listens to her story.

* * *

><p><strong>(3)<strong>

**date:** December 2010

This is becoming too much of a habit for her, knocking on her superior officer's door, knowing that she's about to get an earful. Her parents and her brother had told her she sounded more tense than usual, and acted agitated when she came to visit, but she can't help it. Even after all this time, Nick Mumford still had this effect on her. She'd hoped it wouldn't show in her job performance.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Leighton says when she walks into SSA Steiner's office. Her heart is racing inside her chest like a jackhammer.

"Yes, close the door," he says, and stops writing as soon as she's standing in front of his desk. She doesn't think sitting down will help her calm down. "You probably know you're not here for a pat on the back."

"I wasn't exp—"

"You acted recklessly and on impulse," Steiner interrupts her immediately. Leighton has to bite her tongue to keep from saying anything. "You were told to wait for back-up and you went in anyway."

"It was the right call," she says, and hears the echoes of that line somewhere in her past.

"No, you got lucky," Agent Steiner corrects. She's been hearing all those words – reckless, impulsive, lucky – her entire career, and frankly she's getting sick of them. But she knows she's the only one who can do anything about that. "Do I need to remind you that last time you went in without back-up you almost got killed?"

Every bone in her body is telling her to defend herself, like she did before, but for some reason she holds back this time. Can't her boss see that she never would have made that call if it hadn't been the right one to make? He has to realize she wouldn't jeopardize her life like that ever again. She's not suicidal. "No, sir," she answers instead, making the rational decision not to argue with a superior officer again.

SSA Steiner sighs. "Look, Tanner, I know you've been under a lot of stress and scrutiny, especially with the Mumford trial—"

"But it's no excuse," Leighton interrupts.

"No, it's not," Steiner agrees. "Take a few days off—" –Leighton wants to protest but he raises his voice— "_take_ a few days off," he repeats. "And get your head back in the game."

"Yes, sir," Leighton says, and walks out of the office, her heart still beating fast, her legs slightly shaky. Any day now the jury will decide whether or not Mumford will get the death penalty. Any day now she'll find her footing again.

There's something inside her that wants to go see Reid, to talk to him about this, to tell him about what Mumford can still make her feel, the tears he can make her spill, the _shame_ he can make her suffer. There's a part of her that wants to share this with Reid, just him, because he'd listen and understand and say all the right things.

But she doesn't.

She's not ready to talk about this to anyone, to tell them exactly what happened when she walked into that house and she thought she heard Mumford making tea in the kitchen. How can she talk about what it felt like to have a white-hot blade cut through her, the soothing words Mumford whispered in her ear while he lowered her to the floor. Right now they're still nightmares; she's promised herself from the moment they become mere painful memories, she'll talk to someone.

It'll be another two years and a lot of tears, more nightmares and a final face-to-face with Mumford, but she tells Reid. She tells him everything. And he will remember everything.

* * *

><p><strong>(4)<strong>

**date:** January 2011

The headaches come out of nowhere. One day he's just fine and then the next there's a painful throbbing behind his eyes accompanied with a heightened sensitivity to light.

"Spence, you okay?" he hears a voice behind him. It takes him too long to figure out it's Leighton's. He turns to face her.

"Hmm?"

"You're wearing sunglasses indoors," she says, looking at him rather worriedly.

"Oh, yeah," he says, taking his glasses off. "Forgot," he adds, but Leighton is staring at him in suspicion. "I'm fine," he laughs it off, even though he knows _fine_ isn't a term he should use to convince Leighton.

"We're still on for tonight?" Leighton asks, more cheerful than he's seen her in a long time. She's had to work through some things again, but with Mumford now on death row, it seems she's allowed herself to let go of some of her anxiety. It takes him another few moments to remember he'd asked her to the movies.

"Yeah," he nods. Leighton smiles, and turns. He watches her until she's at the other end of the hallway, and disappears out of sight.

He wants to tell her right there, about the searing pain that slices through him when his migraines are at their worst, how sometimes they get so bad he has to run for the bathroom because he's afraid he'll throw up. He wants to tell Leighton about the fear that it's something physical the doctors won't be able to fix. The paralyzing horror that it could be paranoid schizophrenia.

But he doesn't.

He thinks that if he doesn't say it then it might not be real. Maybe it's all in his head, _psychosomatic_, even though he'd told his doctor that's exactly what it wasn't. But thinking that makes him feel better, keeping quiet somehow gives him the illusion that it's not so bad and the headaches will go away.

Except they don't.

Emily's the first one he tells about the headaches, because she won't treat him like a kid—neither would Leighton, but she'd worry more than all the others combined, like he would if he were in her shoes. Telling Emily makes him feel better, and her gentle "Oh" carries so much meaning with it—it proves to him that she was the right person to tell. Telling Emily doesn't make the headaches worse. But it doesn't make them go away either.

When Emily dies he tells Morgan, because there's that fear again, and with Emily gone all these secrets and lies suddenly seem so trivial. What if his secrets one day put one of his other team members in danger? What if he's pointing a gun one day, and the bright lights prevent him from taking aim? No, it's best that they know what's going on with him.

He tells Leighton last, because his secrets aren't an immediate danger to her until the day she joins his team. _Their_ team.

* * *

><p><strong>(5)<strong>

**date:** March 2011

His knuckles barely graze the door when he knocks, and maybe some part of him hopes that the sound of it will go by unnoticed. But still he waits; the lock snaps in the door a few seconds later. "Spence," Leighton says, her eyes big. Her hair's pulled back in a ponytail and she's already dressed for bed. He knows it's late.

"Hey," he says, one hand in his pocket, the other scratching the back of his head. "Can I—"

"Of course." Leighton doesn't need him to say it. He's ended up on her doorstep before. "Come in," she says and moves aside to let him in. The apartment smells like popcorn.

"I saw you at the funeral today," he says matter-of-factly. He wants to tell her that he wished she'd come to him, but then he thinks about how their eyes had met earlier today, and words had just seemed obsolete. What could she have said that the rest of the team hadn't said already?

"Yeah. I didn't want to impose," Leighton answers his unspoken thoughts, and pushes past him in the living room. "I was going to call you in a few days," she adds, fiddling with her sleeves. He knows she would have found something to say that would have crushed him all over again, yet smooth over the hurt at the same time.

Reid nods to himself and rubs at his temple. "Would you mind if I—" he starts, and waves a hand over at the sofa—there's a blanket and a bowl of popcorn huddled close together on top of it.

"Not at all," Leighton says. He hadn't really expected her to say no. That's why he came here. "I was just starting a movie."

He grabs the open DVD box from the coffee table and scans it fast. "The original," he huffs. _The Day The Earth Stood Still_—he thinks it's appropriate, in a way, the title that is, because right now his world is standing still, his team's world is standing still with the loss of Emily. He wonders if Leighton's is standing still, if not for Emily, than just for him.

Leighton looks at him, feigning offense. "My brother recommended it," she says, and snatches the box from his hands. That explains that, Reid thinks to himself.

He doesn't watch the film with her; he's already seen it a few times and he can't focus anyway. But just sitting next to Leighton in utter silence—just like that time she visited him in the hospital he feels like there's no distance between them, there's no need for complicated words or awkward conversation.

"Hey. I'm gonna go to bed, okay?" Leighton says when the credits start.

"Do you think I could—" he says carefully, but Leighton is already smiling before he can ask.

"I'll get you a pillow," she says, and gets up from the sofa. Leighton saunters into the bedroom, and he takes the opportunity to take a look through her books. He's pretty much memorized all the titles already, mostly because there aren't that many books. Leighton's not much of a reader.

He hears Leighton join him in the living room again behind him. He turns around slowly, but doesn't move. Leighton puts the pillow down on the sofa and walks over to him. "Try to get some sleep," she says, looking up at him, her eyes filled with concern. He wants to say he's hurting, but he knows she can tell. Leighton raises a hand to his face and puts it on his cheek. Then she raises herself on her toes and plants a kiss on his other cheek; he closes his eyes when he feels her warm breath against his skin.

And then she hugs him, tight, for the first time since he walked through the door. He hadn't realized how much he needed it until her arms twine around his neck, and his around her torso. He keeps his eyes closed and tries to imagine a world where Leighton never got hurt, where Emily is still alive and he doesn't suffer any headaches. But that's an impossible world to imagine.

Leighton pulls back and looks up at him. There are tears in her eyes again. "You know where everything is," she says. He knows Leighton realizes he won't be sleeping.

"I'll keep it down," he says, and rubs his eyes wearily.

Leighton smiles softly, and disappears into the bedroom.

* * *

><p><strong>if you can, please let me know what you think!<strong>


	10. You're Here To Ease My Guilt

**author's notes:** i don't know how many of you know about next season's casting spoilers, but it's obvious i'm not going along with those in this chapter. i might take them in account in future storylines (don't worry, that was planned either way) but consider this story _completely_ AU from now on. i still hope to address some dangling storylines the show has played with. the story might be more team-oriented for a while as well. i hope you all continue to enjoy the story. thank you so much for everyone reading, and (this is become repetitive) it must be said that my girl **Inwenalas** rocks for putting up with me.

**characters:** Leighton Tanner (OC), Reid, Hotch, JJ, Seaver, Morgan, Rossi, mention of Prentiss

**setting:** AU from 6x24_ - Supply & Demand_ onward_  
><em>

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

><p><strong>SCARS REMIND US WHERE WE'VE BEEN;;<strong>

****chapter nine  
><strong>**

* * *

><p><strong>date:<strong> May 25th-27th, 2011

**(1)**

Leighton's eyes go wide at Hotch's words. "You want _me_?" she asks. He wants her on his team? When everyone heard about the budget cuts, the entire BAU changed. Colleagues she always thought would never leave were suddenly looking for new opportunities, being reassigned to other field offices across the country. Two entire teams were cut from the budget, and there she was, without any particular aspirations, being asked to join one of the most successful teams the BAU has.

"You sound surprised," Hotch says, looking at her curiously. Hiring Leighton wasn't something he had to think about; he wanted to get her before someone else saw her potential and snatched her away. With adding Leighton, and JJ being back, his team will be considerably larger, but he needs another experienced profiler.

"I heard the Director was looking for someone more senior." It's not that she's not grateful for the opportunity, or isn't eager to work for Hotch and with this team, but not even Reid is considered a senior agent yet.

"You've been with the BAU for almost four years," Hotch says. The only thing that the Director had insisted on was that the new agent was female and had BAU experience. Seaver was a good agent, but she's too young to handle all the aspects of the job. Leighton has already met with all the aspects of the job. "More importantly, you've worked with this team before."

Leighton looks at Hotch. He doesn't blink. "Why do you have so much faith in me?" she asks, because really, every field report crosses Hotch's desk too now that he's taken some of Strauss' responsibilities. He knows about her impulse-control issues and reads her psych evaluations. So why would he risk placing her in this team that already has its own rhythm, its shared experiences?

"I know that when we met you had an intermittent tremor in your left hand whenever someone mentioned your past," Hotch answers. Leighton straightens herself in her chair. She doesn't like being profiled, but she thinks she might have to get used to that. "The times after that you still looked at it, because you were afraid you hadn't dealt with that past. I've brought it up twice now, and you haven't so much as flinched. Maybe that's because you're conscious of it, or because you've let it go." Leighton knows she hasn't let go of anything. "Either way, you've grown. That's what makes you a good agent."

Hotch always has such a clear way of putting things, Leighton thinks, yet for some reasons she gets the feeling Hotch isn't telling her the entire story. As far as field assignments go this is her dream job, her dream team even, but Emily hasn't been gone for that long. She's not sure this is the best thing for Hotch's team. Doesn't he realize that himself?

"Team's waiting in the conference room," Hotch says and gets up from behind his desk. "Shall we?" he asks. Leighton gets up slowly.

She hesitates; part of her had hoped she'd get the chance to talk to Reid before he found out along with the rest of the team. Everyone had taken Emily's death pretty hard, but Reid was her best friend. He's not going to like finding out like this.

Leighton follows Hotch to the conference room in silence. The team's involved in animated conversation, laughing freely, exchanging stories with JJ. Something tells Leighton they won't be welcoming her the same way. And she's right, the room goes deadly silent as soon as Hotch and Leighton walk in. Reid looks at her, and frowns.

"Everyone," Hotch says, and remains standing. "I know these past few months haven't been easy on any of us." Hotch looks each of his team members in the eyes. "Leighton's been reassigned to this unit." Everyone starts looking at everyone else, a quiet shock rippling around the table. Leighton just stands still next to Hotch, hands in her pockets. "I trust we can all make her feel welcome." The silence is tense and uncomfortable. "Leighton," Hotch turns towards her, "I don't think you've met Agent Ashley Seaver."

Hotch sits down at the table as Seaver gets up to shake Leighton's hand. The younger woman smiles at her, but it's strained. Leighton knows she's intruding, she _feels_ like an intruder, walking into a spot previously occupied by Emily. Emily, the strong. Emily, the brave. Emily, the courageous. She feels Morgan's eyes pinning her down when she sits down between Hotch and Rossi.

JJ walks over to Leighton and hands her the case file, smiling at her in encouragement. Leighton is grateful that there's nothing in JJ's smile that suggests discomfort. She looks for Reid's eyes across the table, but he avoids looking at her.

* * *

><p><strong>(2)<strong>

She's been watching Reid for a whole of five minutes before she says something. He hasn't said a word to her since they left the conference room, and it feels unnatural. They're capable of this silence when they're comfortable with each other, when the situation calls for some kind of silence, a comfort, a respect. But this, this isn't natural.

"You think he's local?" Leighton walks over to him, determined to talk this through, or at the very least elicit some reaction. Reid is pinning thumbtacks to the map on the evidence board.

"Impossible to say at this point," Reid mutters, staring at the dots on the map. "We need at least three points to establish an accurate geographical profile." Leighton purses her lips, and nods to herself once. Either Reid is completely oblivious to the way he's treating her, or he's purposely ignoring her. Leighton doesn't like it either way.

"You know," Leighton starts, and she's saying it because she knows they've reached a point where they can talk to each other about anything, without feeling embarrassed or awkward, or ashamed. "—out of all the people I thought would give me a hard time, I didn't think you'd be one of them."

Reid's head snaps towards her, as if her very words are a complete absurdity. "A hard time?" he frowns, licks his lips, and shakes his head. "I haven't—"

"—said a word to me since we got on the plane," Leighton adds, and watches Reid cast down his eyes, staring down at his feet. He knows she's right. "I'm not replacing Emily," Leighton says carefully, because that's what this is really about, Leighton forcing her way into a place already spoken for.

"You couldn't," Reid says softly. It doesn't hurt Leighton to hear it, she knows she'll never _be_ an Emily so how could she ever replace her? "I'm sorry," Reid adds. Leighton knows it's not his words he's apologizing for, it's his behavior towards her. There's a short silence as he rubs his eyes. "You have a very clear and defined place in my life, Leigh," he says, and pinches the bridge of his nose, "and now you're here, and— It's hard, that's all."

"My being on this team doesn't mean we have to stop being friends." But she knows that in order to make this work, she might need to let him go a little. For a while at least.

"Of course not," Reid admits immediately. "Not at all," he says, but looks away from her again. "That might be the problem," he adds.

Leighton turns her head too, feeling something in her chest tighten. She knows what he's trying to say, she knows what insecurities Reid tries to cope with every time someone on his team leaves, is forced out, has now died. Normally she'd tell him that he won't lose her, that she's not going anywhere, but she realizes that's only a promise she would have made him if they'd met before her own brush with death. Truth is, no one can ever know when someone in their life goes away, when someone decides they've had enough of this job, or worse, gets killed.

He finds Leighton's silence daunting, and telling of how well she now knows him.

"I mean, is it even worth it?" Reid asks, and looks at Leighton. "If doing this job means losing the people you love, then why do it at all?" he frowns.

"Because that's not what our job is _about_," Leighton hears herself say, but the voice isn't hers, it sounds more like something prerecorded or rehearsed. That's not to say she doesn't mean every word. "We do it for them." Leighton looks at the evidence board, at the victims' pictures, smiling back at them. "We give them back their voices, and bring their killers to justice."

Reid smiles to himself, but very privately. He'll need more time to get used to the idea of Leighton being part of the team, even more part of his work life than before. The thought of losing her too had spooked through his head from the moment Hotch had said she was now part of the team. Part of him wants to push her away, it's pulling at him from the inside, but he knows he can't do that, for the team's sake. For his own sake.

* * *

><p><strong>(3)<strong>

"_Morgan_," Leighton calls after him, and consciously chooses to stop right there, in that spot on the driveway before going anywhere else with him. Reid had been giving her the silent treatment because he didn't know how to handle her presence on the team, but Morgan was airing a passive-aggressive attitude that was starting to get on her nerves.

"Are you coming?" Morgan turns and looks at her. "Hotch wants us to check out these addresses ASAP."

"Not until you talk to me," Leighton says, crossing her arms over her chest.

"About what, _Tanner_?" Morgan asks. The tone he treats her last name with is both condescending and unnecessarily harsh. "About my _feelings_?" Morgan continues, and traces a few steps back towards her. "About you suddenly being on this team?" The anger in Morgan's voice shocks Leighton; he's acting as if she killed someone to get this job. It's almost like he's telling her she's happy Emily is dead.

"You think this would be easier if I was a stranger?" Leighton asks, trying to mellow her tone. She's well aware that everyone is still mourning Emily's death.

"Yes," Morgan answers immediately. "_Very_," he stresses, and looks at her strongly. If Leighton was a stranger he would have the right to treat her like this, like an enemy invading his territory, his team's territory, _Emily's _territory. If he didn't know her he wouldn't have to pretend not to care.

"And then what, Morgan?" Leighton shakes her head. "We're supposed to be a team. Team members get close." But she knows that part of her doesn't really believe that, her first team had left her with too many bad experiences to truly buy into that. It's just what she hopes it will become with this new team. This can't be a repeat.

"Where's it written that it has to be that way?" Morgan asks.

"Because without trust people get killed."

"Don't do that, Tanner," Morgan shakes his head, and turns, walking towards the car. "Don't make this about you." How _dare_ she? How can she think only about herself and talk about team spirit at the same time? But he knows that's just his anger talking. He's been angry for so long now.

Leighton runs after him. "If you don't _know_ me, Derek, how are you ever going to _trust_ me?" she almost shouts. "How are you going to have my back?" At this point she thinks both of them are just working out their frustration. "I know what losing your trust in your team feels like. I've _lived_ it." And yes, maybe she's making it too much about herself, but she sees so much of herself in Morgan right now. "Don't let that happen here. Trust breeds trust. And you and me don't have that in spades to begin with."

Morgan takes a moment to let her words sink in. He realizes that maybe he hasn't been giving her all the credit he should. "You think I don't trust you?" he asks, his tone serious suddenly, and he feels his anger leaving him. She's right, he thinks, they both have trust issues.

"I think you don't _want_ to," Leighton answers.

* * *

><p><strong>(4)<strong>

No one really understands why. Why did Hotch add Leighton to their team? Leighton, the impulsive. Leighton, the reckless. Leighton, who everyone knows has had a close relationship with Reid. Not even Rossi, who has seen so many different teams already, can figure out what Hotch is thinking. _Was_ thinking.

He understands the reasoning for Morgan, because he'd have a hard time accepting anyone right now that wasn't already his friend. And while having couples on the same team isn't entirely unheard off, Hotch has to realize this will throw off the dynamics between Reid and Leighton as well, at least for a while. Reid doesn't deal with change very well. He knows he went over Hotch's head getting JJ back on the team, but he'd expected Hotch to be grateful, rather than cut him out of the loop.

He finds Leighton in the bullpen when he walks out of his office. Seaver is tidying up her own desk, but Leighton is staring at Emily's desk; no one had cleared it out yet. "Freaks you out, doesn't it?" he calls out, and when Leighton looks at him he notices how her eyes are panic-stricken. He checks himself.

"Excuse me?" Leighton blinks.

"Knowing Hotch fought for you." Rossi shrugs, and descends the small set of steps down to the bullpen. Hotch is still going over paperwork in his office. "And so soon after Emily." Leighton casts down her eyes; he knows there's something in his tone that's almost accusatory, and it's not like him. "Don't sell yourself short, kid," he adds, and Leighton looks up at him. "Hotch never fights for something he doesn't believe in."

"Morgan—" Leighton starts, but doesn't say it.

"Give him time," Rossi says. "He'll come around." Leighton nods to herself. One thing's for sure, Rossi catches himself thinking, Leighton will work harder than she's ever worked before to fit into a team. After all, she's already friends with most of them. "Go home. Get some sleep," he says.

"I will," Leighton smiles softly.

But long after Rossi leaves Leighton is still staring at Emily's things, her own things in a box at her feet.

"Are you okay?" Seaver's voice sounds from behind her.

Leighton turns, and looks at her; she's hesitant to say anything at all, but she knows she has to make an effort. "I shouldn't be the one doing this," Leighton answers softly. It feels disrespectful for her to do this, clearing out Emily's desk herself, and she's surprised Hotch left this to her at all. Or any of the others for that matter.

"I'll give you a hand," Seaver says, and smiles at her softly.

"Thanks," Leighton says, slightly shocked. Morgan had gone home with Garcia, probably because he needed to talk to her about Leighton. Reid had gone home as well, claiming he had a headache from the heat they'd endured during their trip. Maybe no one was willing to acknowledge Emily being gone by clearing out her desk themselves.

"Did—Hotch tell you about me?" Seaver asks carefully, lifting a stack of empty folders from one of the drawers of Emily's desk. _Leighton's_ desk.

Seaver is more to the point than Leighton had initially thought. When Reid had first told her about Seaver, about her history, part of her felt she could relate to her without having met her. But Leighton realizes now there's little she can actually relate to. Seaver seems much stronger than her. "No, but—" Leighton hesitates.

"Reid did," Seaver says timidly, and smiles to herself. It's shameful to admit, but Leighton can't help but feel a stab of jealousy, even though it's perfectly normal for Seaver to know Reid like this after working with him these past few months. "It's okay," Seaver adds when Leighton stays silent. "I just thought you should know." Leighton knows Seaver tells her this for the team's sake, for the team dynamics.

She doesn't ask Seaver if she knows about her story, she figures that if Seaver hadn't heard it from Rossi or Reid, she probably heard it on the news. Either way, unlike Seaver, talking about her past doesn't come quite so easy, whether it was for the good of the team or not.

Ten minutes later Seaver leaves her too, and Hotch is still inside his office. It takes Leighton only a handful of strides to get there.

"Why did you put me on this team, Hotch?" Leighton asks, leaning against the doorframe.

Hotch looks up from his papers. "Why do you think?" he asks.

"I have no idea." Leighton shrugs. "The two people I'm closest to are giving me the cold shoulder, Seaver sees me as competition, and Rossi only accepts me because he has to." It sounds crude, but that's the way it is. She has a close relationship with Reid, and before today she had an easy friendship with Morgan. She didn't know Seaver, and Rossi, well, Leighton thinks he'd get along with just about anyone if he was forced to.

"And you think a stranger wouldn't be in the same position?" he asks, even though he knows all his team members had been asking themselves the same question. Why _Leighton_?

"I—" Leighton hesitates. _No_, because that's the point she tried to make to Morgan earlier. Truth is, Emily's death had left a big gaping hole for them to grief around. A hole that wasn't normally there but they moved in synchrony with because that's what grieving is all about, coming to terms with the fact that a friend is now gone forever. Something was there before, Emily, now replaced by their collective grieving, and now Leighton is forcing her way in.

"You're what this team needs, Leighton," Hotch says. "Be patient." He knows deep down there's a deeper reasoning behind him choosing Leighton. Before what happened to Emily he wouldn't have thought it was a good idea, because Leighton and Reid were so close. It was different if they worked a case together every once in a while, but before Emily, and before forcing this secret on himself and JJ, he wouldn't have thought it very professional for them to be on the same team together. But everything has changed.

Leighton is what this team needs because she _knows_ this team, she's smart enough to know that Morgan and Reid only need time, and Seaver just needs to get to know her. But most of all, Leighton is here to ease his own guilt. A stranger would need to gain everyone's trust, everyone's friendship. With Leighton here he's sparing his team the trouble of letting someone else in. They already know her.

Leighton is his guilt personified.

"Leighton, about you and Reid," Hotch says when Leighton turns. She stops in her tracks, and looks at him, frowning. Is he asking her what she thinks he's asking? And if he is, why is he asking her now and not before hiring her? But something tells her all the aspects of her relationships with Hotch's team members had been considered before he called her in. "I've noticed some tension."

"He's still mourning Emily," Leighton answers.

"I know. We all are," Hotch says. "I was referring to your relationship." He's saying it because he needs to get it out of the way, he needs to cover all his bases, just in case. But he doesn't think Leighton and Reid will ever pose any problems even if they become romantically involved again. "I can't order you, but as your superior I would like to know if anything—develops."

Leighton thinks it's the strangest request she's ever gotten. "Of course," she nods.

* * *

><p><strong>if you can, please let me know what you think!<strong>


	11. Don't Pull Your Punches

**author's notes:** there was a slight delay in update, but the exam period was brutal and mostly spend on academic writing. but i'm back in the game, hope you all enjoy the new chapter, and a MASSIVE thanks to all my new reviewers! super-special thanks to my bestie **Inwenalas** for the brainstorming sessions.

**characters:** Leighton Tanner (OC), Reid, Seaver, Hotch, JJ, Rossi, Morgan, Garcia, Sandra (OC)

**setting:** AU from 6x24_ - Supply & Demand_ onward_  
><em>

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

><p><strong>SCARS REMIND US WHERE WE'VE BEEN;;<strong>

****chapter ten  
><strong>**

* * *

><p><strong>date:<strong> July 12th, 2011

**(1)**

"I can't believe Hotch is making us do this now," Reid complains, putting his pen to the paper in front of him. They'd been called in for a case this morning, but Hotch had some things to take care of before the briefing, so he'd ordered – not suggested – they catch up on some paperwork.

Seaver looks up from her own papers, glances over at Reid and frowns. "You don't like doing paperwork?" she asks, surprised.

"He only _reads_ fast," Leighton interjects, and throws a wad of paper at Reid's head. "When it comes to filing reports he's just as slow as the rest of us," she teases. Seaver and Leighton both break out in laughter.

Reid smiles at Leighton, and looks at Seaver. He nods to himself, quirking his mouth; he knows when he's being mocked, but he hadn't expected Ashley and Leighton to team up against him. It's remarkable how quick they've become friends over the past few weeks. Sometimes Leighton reminds him of Emily, because of how easy she managed to become part of this team. He just wishes Morgan accepted her the same way.

"Anyone want some more coffee?" Reid asks, instead of giving either Seaver or Leighton the satisfaction of getting to him. He's happy the two of them are friends though, even if that friendship comes at his own expense sometimes.

"Sure," Seaver says, handing Reid her mug when he reaches her desk. She knows Reid has memorized her coffee preferences, as he has the rest of the team's.

"I'm good, thanks," Leighton says.

Seaver's eyes follow Reid to the other side of the bullpen, making sure he's well out of hearing range when she turns back to face Leighton. "Can I ask you something?" she asks, looking at Leighton intently.

Leighton leans back in her chair. "Sure."

"You and Reid," Seaver starts, almost changing the subject. Is this really something she wants to be asking now? Is this something she should to be asking at all? It's not her place to ask, even though she feels she and Leighton have reached a point where they can talk not just as colleagues, but as friends as well. "Did you ever—?"

Leighton looks at her, waiting for more information, but Seaver falls silent. She's fairly certain she knows what Seaver is asking her. "We dated for a while," Leighton says, but doesn't offer more information. She's not really comfortable discussing this with anyone.

"What happened?" Seaver asks. She hopes Leighton will tell her if and when she's crossing any lines.

"We uhm—" Leighton frowns to herself, and looks over at Reid, pouring himself and Seaver another cup of coffee. JJ comes in through the doors, and joins Reid for a short conversation. "We work better as friends," Leighton says, but knows she only says it to convince herself. They work perfectly as friends, but recently Leighton has come to realize that maybe she wants to be something more again. She suddenly wonders why Seaver is asking in the first place. "If you're asking for my permission—" Leighton's voice trails off.

"Oh no." Seaver shakes her head, and looks away shyly.

Leighton's not sure how she'd feel about Seaver asking Reid out. It's not that she doesn't like Seaver, or that she's the overtly jealous type, but part of her likes to think that Reid and her still have a shot at patching things up.

Before she has the chance to think about it too much, Hotch and Rossi emerge from their office. "Guys, conference room," Hotch says.

By the time Leighton and Seaver reach the conference room the rest of the team has already taken their seats. Reid slides Seaver's cup of coffee over to her.

"Sacramento, California," JJ says, starting the presentation. Eight pictures appear on the flat screen, the same pictures zooming by on each of the team member's tablets. "In the past five weeks eight women between the ages of 20 and 35 have been attacked."

"They survived?" Rossi says, already ahead of JJ.

"Yes," JJ says. "But not before the UnSub did _this_ to them." JJ points the remote at the screen, and the victim's _after_pictures appear. All of them have huge scars on the right sides of their faces. "One of the first victims went through extensive corrective surgery, but she's still severely disfigured."

Reid frowns as he flips through the case file. "It's strange," he says, moving back and forth between the pictures. "These cuts are becoming increasingly less brutal, and the weapon of choice changes too. It's almost as if he's working up to something."

"Working up to what?" Seaver asks.

"Look at the position of these cuts," Morgan interjects. "The UnSub's intentionally targeting the right side of their faces."

"He's getting more precise," Rossi says.

"And he's speeding up." Leighton's eyes settle on the picture of the final victim, a single scar running from her hairline, down over her eye, her cheek, crossing her lips and ending just below her chin. Leighton swallows hard, grateful for some reason that she's able to cover up her own scars. "Last three attacks were on three consecutive nights."

"There's not a single eye witness in any of these assaults?" Morgan asks, because eight women is quite a victim count already, and most of them were attacked in a crowded area.

JJ shrugs. "There was one bystander who identified a short figure wearing a dark hoodie."

"We better get down there," Hotch concludes, already grabbing his things together. "If the UnSub keeps to the pattern there'll be another victim tonight."

* * *

><p><strong>(2)<strong>

"The victimology is all over the place," Rossi says, facing the evidence boards in the tiny precinct room. Just like they'd predicted, another woman had been attacked by the time they landed, the victim almost forty years old this time.

"They're all women," Seaver says, attempting to offer at least some sort of starting point. They'd discussed almost all aspects of the case: the blitz attacks suggested a disorganized killer, but one that was becoming increasingly more organized in his methodology. The cuts were getting cleaner, but deeper and more efficient.

"Yeah, but there's no discernable pattern," Morgan answers. Seaver and Hotch are the only ones sitting down at the table in the room; the others are standing all about the room, staring at the evidence boards. "Their ages and socio-economic status are all over the map. But the scarring reads as sadist."

"The Frisco Ripper, he—" Reid starts, but stops midsentence when he realizes Leighton's in the room as well. It's not like him to edit himself so blatantly, but he knows how Leighton still feels about Nick Mumford and her past with him. Reid looks at her carefully.

Leighton suppresses a smile. "It's okay," she says, and crosses her arms over her chest. Reid's right in thinking it isn't easy for her to hear anyone talk about the Ripper as a case study, when her memories of him are still vivid and anything but classroom material. But out here, work comes first. And if it can be in any way helpful to the case, she'll take it.

"The Frisco Ripper covered his victims in scars because he wanted to own them," Reid continues. "When he was later interviewed he called them his _gifts_. He killed his victims eventually, but not after meticulously documenting and photographing every cut." Once again Leighton can't help but feel grateful. In any case study she's qualified as one of the Ripper's victims, but at least there aren't any pictures Mumford took of her in any Bureau file.

"You think that's why the Unsub's doing this?" Morgan asks. "Intentionally scarring these women. Why?"

Reid looks at Leighton from the corner of his eye. Leighton takes a deep breath. "The scars reduce them to objects," she says, crossing her arms over her chest. "Leaving his mark on these women allows him to regain a control he's lost in his own life."

"Okay, but he keeps them alive," Morgan says. There's a tone in his voice everyone else in the room notices, the same tone he's been using in all his discussions with Leighton. And there have been quite a few in the past few weeks. "He allows them to live."

"What if we're looking for a woman?" Rossi says suddenly. The victimology is just too much over the map for their UnSub to be a man.

"A woman?" Leighton says, too loud, but she can't hide her shock. She knows her tone betrays just how ridiculous she thinks that theory is, but the profiler in her knows it makes more sense. Female serial killers tend not to care about gender, age, or race. They're in it for the kill. Leighton realizes that these women represent a virtue, a recurring theme in the UnSub's life, and that's what she sets out to destroy.

"It explains the range in victimology." Morgan agrees. "And why no one remembers seeing anyone. A woman wouldn't stand out."

"If it's a woman we're looking at a whole different profile," Hotch says.

"Okay, so let's extend the theory," Rossi says. "If our UnSub's a woman it's more likely the victims represent her, rather than a woman in her life."

"It probably means she's scarred herself." Hotch looks up from his own file. "Probably in the face, judging by the position of the scars. And these women become a way for her to project her own pain."

"So what kind of woman are we looking at?" Morgan asks, and purposely looks at Leighton.

Leighton knows Morgan is putting her on the spot when he asks her, because he knows most of that profile will reflect some of Leighton's own issues from after she was attacked. She takes a deep breath. "If our UnSub's a woman she'll be extremely introverted. Her anti-social behavior would make it impossible for her to keep a job. She can't start a conversation, she'll avoid eye contact," Leighton sums up, keeping the most painful concession for last. "And she probably can't look at herself in the mirror."

She feels as if everyone is staring at her, even though it's probably just her imagination.

"I think we're ready to give the profile," Hotch says.

* * *

><p><strong>(3)<strong>

"Hey, is everything okay between you and Leighton?" Reid asks Morgan, because he feels like he really should address this. He knows that everyone on the team has by now noticed the animosity between Morgan and Leighton, but he knows none of them have talked to Morgan about it. Most of them think Morgan just needs time.

Morgan only looks at him in question.

"It's just that I've—I've noticed some tension," Reid adds.

Morgan looks around to make sure no one else is listening in. "It doesn't bother you that she's here?" Morgan asks. "On the team?"

"It does bother me," Reid says. But once Leighton had noticed they'd talked about it and worked through it. It'll never be easy for him to see Leighton as _just_ a member on the team, but then none of the others are _just_ his colleagues either. They're his family. "But Leighton's my friend." One of his _best_ friends, he realizes. "She's your friend."

"Yeah, and Emily was my friend too, Reid," Morgan argues. Reid casts down his eyes. "And she's dead. She's gone." Morgan paces to the other side of the room and comes to a standstill. "I suppose this is the part where you tell me Tanner deserves better than this." He knows that Reid and Leighton share something different than the rest of them, that Reid is talking to him now for exactly that reason.

"You don't need me to tell you that."

Morgan's cell phone ringing interrupts their conversation.

"Talk to me, baby girl," Morgan says, putting his phone on speaker.

"Hold the phone, sugar daddy, because I have narrowed down your suspect list to exactly – pause for dramatic effect – _one_," Garcia rambles. "A Sandra Collins, 20 years old. Released from Belle Rêve mental hospital two months ago."

"What makes you think she's our UnSub?" Reid asks, looking up when Leighton joins them in the room. He doesn't think his conversation with Morgan will change anything about the way he's been treating Leighton any time soon, but at least he can say he tried.

"This is where my dramatic telling grows more reluctant." Something in Garcia's voice changes. "Sandra's mother left her when she was six. Stepfather blamed her so he took a knife to her face and carved her up. She went into foster care, but she started acting out almost immediately. She bounced around the system for a few years, until she was admitted to Belle Rêve for attacking another foster kid."

"Makes sense," Reid muses. "Early pre-pubescence is when girls normally start paying attention to their looks. Being traumatized at such an early age pretty much programmed her behavior in later life. She probably repeated this pattern throughout her teenage years."

"Why'd they let her out?" Leighton asks. If this girl is such a danger to society, she'd love to know how a discharge was justified.

"She was released several months ago after years of medicating and oh boy, electro-shock therapy."

"To make her forget," Leighton says softly, eyes going out of focus. What she wouldn't give to be able to forget. And yet, she wouldn't be the person she was today without her past.

"Obviously didn't take," Morgan says. "As soon as she got out she fell back into familiar patterns."

* * *

><p><strong>(4)<strong>

Morgan and Leighton are send to check out Sandra Collins' apartment together. They draw their weapons before knocking, identifying themselves as FBI agents. But they don't get any response. Leighton nods, and stands back while Morgan kicks the door in. The apartment is tiny, one bedroom, small bathroom and a small living room with adjoining kitchen.

"She's not here," Leighton says, and holsters her sidearm.

Morgan looks around the apartment. "You were right about the mirrors," he says. Every reflective surface in the apartment has either been smashed or is covered up. Morgan knows it was unfair of him to demand that part of the profile from Leighton earlier, because she's nothing like this woman they're looking for now. But he can't help but wonder if any of Leighton's mirrors are still covered up.

Suddenly they're both distracted by a woman screaming.

"It's coming from across the hall," Leighton says, and Morgan pushes past her, grabbing for his gun again. Leighton grabs hers and follows Morgan out the door. The front door of the other apartment is wide open; Sandra Collins must have gotten home to find them snooping around, and forced her way into another apartment.

This apartment is just as tiny, but instead of finding it empty, they find Sandra Collins in the living room, subduing her neighbor by holding a knife to her face, the same knife that had carved up five other women.

"Sandra Collins! FBI!" Morgan shouts, aiming his gun at Sandra. He can't get a clear shot, and neither can Leighton. "Put down the knife!"

"N—No!" Sandra shouts, her hand shaking, the blade of the knife already making a bloody indentation in her next victim's face.

"Sandra, calm down," Leighton says, gun arm trained on the two women in front of her. "We need you to put down the knife," she adds, but at the next scream Leighton realizes they need to handle Sandra differently. She's afraid, she's been driven into a corner, and the only way she sees out is by making another victim. "Morgan, you got my back?" Leighton asks, and feels a tremor rip through her fingers. _Son of a_—, she thinks, but takes a deep breath.

"What?" Morgan asks, quickly glancing over at his partner. Leighton holsters her weapon slowly, and puts her hands out in surrender. "Tanner…" Morgan warns, but Leighton doesn't respond.

"Sandra?" she asks, making sure their UnSub's focus turns to her instead of Morgan. "Sandra, it's okay." Leighton tries to keep her voice as steady as she can, even though her heart is hammering in her chest. She hasn't willingly put down her gun very often. "We're not going to hurt you. But we need you to put the knife down." Leighton takes a few steps closer.

"No!" Sandra shouts, and shakes her head. She closes her eyes, but her grip on the knife tightens. "No no no! You'll make me go back. No one listens to me there."

"I'm not going to take you anywhere you don't want to go, Sandra."

"They thought it would go away," Sandra says, staring at Leighton with dark and crazed eyes. "They thought I would forget."

"But you didn't, did you, Sandra?" Leighton asks, making sure she repeats Sandra's name as much as possible. If she wants to save this other woman, she'll need to establish some kind of rapport. "How could you when you're the one carrying the scars?" Morgan looks at Leighton from the corner of his eye briefly. He knows what she's trying to do. He hopes it'll work. "I know what that's like, Sandra."

"Wh—You're lying! Just like the rest of them!"

Leighton looks back at Morgan carefully, swallows hard and turns again. Carefully, she undoes the Velcro straps of her bulletproof vest. "_Tanner_…" Morgan warns her again, even though he understands what she's doing. If it comes down to it he'll have her back.

Leighton pulls her shirt from her pants and unbuttons the last three buttons. "No, Sandra, look," she says. "This is what happened to me." Leighton pulls the white fabric aside, and reveals the scar running down her abdomen, the scar she has a hard time looking at herself. "Someone hurt me too, and there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about it. You see everyone around you moving on, and you feel stuck, because you can't forget. And you never will, Sandra."

Morgan can see Sandra's hold on the knife faltering. His grip on his gun tightens, and he puts more pressure on the trigger.

"I can't forget," Sandra says, tears running down her cheeks.

"Is that the kind of life you want for other people?" Leighton asks. "Is that what you want _her_ to suffer through?" Leighton points at the woman in Sandra's arms. "The same scars? The same nightmares?"

"N—No."

"Then put down the knife, Sandra. Please," Leighton pleads, taking another step closer. "We'll take you somewhere safe. Somewhere they won't make you forget."

Sandra wails, but drops the knife. It hits the ground in a hard dull thud. Sandra lets go of her neighbor, who runs straight into Leighton's arms. "It's okay," Leighton says, holding onto her tightly, guiding her out of the room fast while Morgan handcuffs Sandra. "It's okay. You're safe."

Morgan stares after Leighton curiously, while he handcuffs Sandra's hands tightly behind her back; she doesn't struggle. He'd never heard Leighton talk about her trauma like that; he hadn't heard Leighton talk about anything that intimate at all. But it just saved their asses. As much as being introverted is a part of her personality, she's strong enough to overcome it when it really comes down to it. He thinks that's very admirable.

Afterwards, he spots Leighton sitting in the open trunk of one of the squad cars, staring out in front of her. He knows he hasn't been giving her a fair treatment, he doesn't need Reid or any of the others to tell him that. But he can't seem to help it. Losing Emily had been so hard, and he just doesn't want to run the risk of going through that again. He likes Leighton, but can he really let her in?

He walks over to her. "Was that real?" he asks. It takes Leighton a few moments to look at him. "In there? Was that real?" he asks again.

"Lying wouldn't have gotten me anywhere," Leighton answers. She rubs her eyes wearily. "It's funny," she shakes her head. "I always thought that if I told anyone I'd feel like a victim again." She's not altogether sure what happened in there, what had possessed her to put herself in harm's way to talk down an UnSub. It was the agent inside her, not the profiler, and she'd only shown so much of herself because it made sense; there was a certain kinship between her and Sandra after all. Still, she'd sat down because her knees wouldn't stop shaking.

"You've given it a place," Morgan says, and sits down next to her in the car. "And now you can use it to empathize." Leighton looks at him, but doesn't say anything. He's grateful for that. "That's not a bad thing." Morgan gets back up, and walks away, but halts in his tracks. He sighs to himself, and turns one last time. "You did good, kid," he says.

Leighton smiles at him softly. It's a small step, but it's a start.

Reid approaches her. He'd been within hearing-range the whole time.

"Well, I do believe I got my first Morgan compliment," Leighton says, getting up from the trunk. "Just out of curiosity, how long before he stops calling me _kid_?" she asks, and looks up at Reid. Reid only smiles at her, rather too triumphantly too. "Right."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Reid asks, hands in his pockets.

Leighton nods. "I will be."

"Seaver asked me out today," he blurts out, against his better judgment. He'd politely turned Seaver's offer down, so he shouldn't feel the need to tell Leighton. But he wants her to know, he knows he has to learn to talk about this part of his life with Leighton if he ever wants something more with her again. If that's what Leighton wants, of course.

"I had a feeling she would," Leighton says, much to Reid's surprise. She _knew_? "Where are you taking her?" Leighton asks, but Reid stops short in his tracks. She turns, and frowns at him. "Or is she taking you?" Why is he acting like she just insulted his mother?

"N—No." Reid casts down his eyes, and stares down at his feet. "I told her it wouldn't be appropriate because we work together."

"Oh," Leighton says, but doesn't know what else to say. Is that Reid's way of telling her he's moved on, or that they can't be together now that they're on the same team? Or is it something else, is he really telling her he's not interested in Seaver, and that's just the _Reid_-way of conveying that?

* * *

><p><strong>if you can, please let me know what you think!<strong>


	12. There's A Pounding In My Head

**author's notes:** good grief, this chapter cost me blood, sweat and tears. i never thought i'd get it down the way i wanted it, but i ended up victorious! i hope you all like it (though at this point, you'd better) thanks to everyone that's reviewing, you guys keep me going! and super special thanks (encore une fois) to my beta, bestie, and second half of my brain **Inwenalas**.

**characters:** Leighton Tanner (OC), Reid, Morgan, Rossi, Hotch, Seaver, JJ, Kevin, Garcia, Will, Henry

**setting:** AU from 6x24_ - Supply & Demand_ onward_  
><em>

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

><p><strong>SCARS REMIND US WHERE WE'VE BEEN;;<strong>

****chapter eleven  
><strong>**

* * *

><p><strong>(1)<strong>

**date:** July 26th, 2011

"When did you get a keyboard?" Leighton asks, walking over to the small side table in Reid's living room. She sits down on the short bench in front of the table.

"Few months ago," Reid calls from the kitchen, looking for tea. Ever since his headaches started he's been trying to substitute coffee for tea. Caffeine can be beneficial for headaches and is generally better than taking painkillers, and he's only recently discovered green tea contains more of it than your average cup of coffee. He thinks Leighton would love hearing that.

Suddenly a playful tune comes from his living room, Leighton playing the piano. He recognizes the tune as a French nursery melody, _Frère Jacques_ if he's not mistaken. It's not complete, and Leighton plays it chunky at best. "I didn't know you played," he says, joining her in the living room.

Leighton turns to face him, hands on her knees. "I don't," she says. "I only know the first four notes."

"Try this," Reid says and walks over to her. He sits down next to Leighton and takes hold of her right hand. He places it on the keyboard, a few inches away from his own. Reid starts playing a tune she doesn't quite recognize, a canon of five notes. "Come on, try it," Reid insists, but his fingers are moving too fast for her to follow. "It's easy."

Leighton laughs. "I'm afraid that what you find easy is slightly more challenging for the rest of us, Dr Reid," Leighton smiles and looks at him. He smiles, but feels a sudden jolt of pain running across both his temples, so painful he has to close his eyes, making his smile turn into more of a grimace. "Hey, are you okay?" Leighton asks softly, and he feels her hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just a headache." _Not now_, he thinks, not in front of Leighton. He's not ready for her to see this, maybe he's not even ready for her to know. He stands up, eyes still closed, but almost loses his balance. He feels Leighton getting up behind him, her hands steadying him around the waist. He rubs his temples, wincing in pain.

"It doesn't look like just a headache," Leighton says, voice laced with concern. _Not _now, he thinks again, and finds himself putting more distance between him and Leighton. He walks over to the couch and sits down.

Leighton sits down next to him carefully. He glances at her briefly, and when he looks into her eyes he sees that worry, the same he saw in the hospital two years ago, the same when he showed up on her doorstep the day of Emily's funeral. Reid knows he has to tell her, the whole team knows about his migraines by now, so it's only fair that Leighton knew too. But it's different with Leighton, she'd worry more than all the others for different reasons.

He takes a breath and looks at her, a deafening ache at his temples, but it's been happening so often lately that he's come to function with or without the headaches. "I've been having really bad migraines?" he says, squinting against the light.

The worry in Leighton's eyes doesn't subside. "Since when?" she asks, afraid her voice betrays just how worried she is.

"This January?" Reid says. "Doctors can't find what's wrong."

"Wh—" Leighton huffs, and shakes her head. That's too long, she thinks, too long before he told her. Didn't Reid trust her enough to tell her this? No, Leighton concedes, Reid just didn't want to worry her. He was probably having a hard time dealing with this himself. "How many doctors have you seen?" she asks.

"About a dozen. They all say I'm fine."

"And what do you think?"

"I—" He looks at her, and frowns. "I'm not crazy," he says.

"Of course you're not crazy," Leighton answers immediately, and scoots closer to him on the couch. She doesn't even think about hesitating when she puts a hand at the back of his neck, dragging her fingers through Reid's short hair. Reid closes his eyes and releases a breath. He leans into Leighton's touch. "Spence, of course you're not crazy."

* * *

><p><strong>(2)<strong>

**date:** August 10th, 2011

She really wishes Hotch's text hadn't read _urgent_. At least that way she would've had time to change instead of heading straight to the office. She knows her locker in the changing room has a fresh pair of work clothes, and it's somewhat comforting, until she sees Hotch waving her over to the conference room when she takes her first step out of the elevator. Leighton sighs, and strolls over to the conference room.

"Well, look at you, Miss Thing," Morgan says as soon as Leighton walks into the room, the skirts of her little black dress twirling around her legs. Every head in the room – except for Hotch's – rises and looks at her, all surprised to see her out of her regular button-down shirt and pants. Her hair's down to, rather than styled in the usual ponytail. "What have you been up to?" Morgan asks, after whistling and watching Leighton sit down.

"I do believe that's _none_ of your business," Leighton answers playfully, looking around the room. Reid hasn't arrived yet. They'd split up because Leighton had hoped to change clothes before starting the briefing while he parked the car. No such luck.

"Who's the lucky guy?" Rossi asks, even though he already knows the answer to that. Earlier this week Reid had asked him what the best opera in town was. At first Rossi had figured Reid was taking Leighton out on another date, like they'd done in the past, but after some research he'd found the real reason.

Right on cue Reid enters the room, dressed in a new black-and-white suit with matching bowtie.

"Well, hello, _Doctor Reid_." Morgan's eyes go wide, and he can't help but be impressed. "Who knew you cleaned up quite so well?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Reid asks and sits down next to Leighton at the round table, thinking he should probably feel partly insulted. It's nothing he's not used to of course, whenever he does something that's not characteristically _Reid_, Morgan tends to question that. He looks at Leighton, and she smiles at him; he feels a similar conspiratorial smile tugging at the corners of his own mouth.

"What was the occasion?" Morgan continues his barrage of questions. He knows Reid and Leighton probably just went out together, but what's the fun in letting them get off easy? Maybe he'd been wrong about the two of them, maybe they'd be able to make it work between them after all.

Leighton knows he's really asking Reid, but she feels the overwhelming urge to answer. "What part of _none _of your business—"

"Oh come on, Tanner, you can't walk in here like that and not expect us to be curious," Morgan interjects, hoping he comes across as playful instead of angry. He knows Leighton is only teasing. Then he looks at Reid. "Where'd you take her?" Morgan asks.

"I—" Reid starts, but when JJ enters the room everyone knows it's best to focus on the job.

"We're all here," Hotch says, and sits down at the table. "JJ," he adds.

"Happy birthday," Rossi whispers to Leighton, right before JJ starts presenting their latest case.

* * *

><p><strong>(3)<strong>

**date:** September 17th, 2011

"She's still here?" Leighton asks, coming to a halt next to Reid, who's staring out over the bullpen from the conference room. Most of the team has already gone home, even Hotch. Leighton and Reid had told JJ they'd clear the evidence boards, and promised Rossi they'd keep an eye on Seaver; he had the feeling she'd be here for a while, and he wasn't wrong.

"Yeah."

She looks at Reid, and any worry she previously had about Seaver gets pushed aside by worry for Reid. He'd been complaining about a headache all through yesterday, but hadn't mentioned it today. "How are you holding up?" she asks, and places a hand at the back of his neck; it's become almost habitual now—she can't help it. She's too worried to think about boundaries, or professional decency, even though she'd be hard-pressed to do it in front of the rest of the team. Now that they're alone it comes even easier, and so far Reid hasn't moved away from it.

"Headache's past. I'll be fine," he says, even though _fine_ has never been a term either of them has accepted as a decent way to describe their state of mind. He knows he's not fine, the headaches are becoming more and more frequent and it's freaking him out. He hasn't told Leighton about that part. Even though he's glad she knows now, and he's reached a point where her concern for him is more touching than anything else, he can't worry her even more.

He looks at her, down into her blue eyes, and notices once again how easy it's become. Her presence is both comfortable and comforting, not awkward. He hates to think that Leighton's letting him in – or vice versa – because of his headaches, because of this constant worry, but at the same time it's something he can live with. At least she's not treating him like a kid. He's long stopped feeling awkward when she touches him— it's become something he longs for now, even if it only affirms just how much he wants them to be an item, different than before.

"You should uhm—" Reid clears his throat and looks at Seaver again through the window, as a way to shake off his train of thought. Even if Leighton feels the same way, he hasn't yet found the right way to tell her what he wants. "You should ask her along."

Leighton smiles. "Okay." She thinks they must both be very tired, because this thing between them isn't usually this easy. The past few months however, since before she knows about Reid's headaches, she's noticed it's Reid that has changed in his attitude towards her. These past few months, it seems it's easier for him to let her in. It's only fair she reciprocates.

They'd spend the better part of the past three days in North Dakota, attempting to catch an UnSub who was copying the Redmond Ripper murders. Both Rossi and Morgan had talked to Hotch about reconsidering taking Seaver along, after all, her father's case would be bringing back painful memories of her childhood, but Hotch had put his faith in Seaver's professionalism. Seaver had kept strong through most of the case, until they narrowed in on their suspect yesterday. In an effort to prove herself, the UnSub had almost gotten away, and a SWAT member got seriously injured.

"What are these?" Leighton asks when she reaches Seaver, her desk littered with unopened letters.

"Letters my father wrote me from prison," Seaver answers without looking up. "I've never opened them."

Leighton takes a breath; this case has affected Seaver more than she's allowing herself to show if it's led her to her father's letters. "Ashley…" Leighton starts, and places a hand on her shoulder. She wants to tell Seaver this happens to the best FBI agents, even the most experienced ones. Every now and then, a case will get personal. In Seaver's case, it got _really_ personal.

"Would you read these?" Seaver asks, and looks up at Leighton. "If you were in my shoes."

"I—" Leighton thinks about it, but doesn't need long. "No," she says, and leans back against Seaver's desk. "I probably wouldn't. But I'm not as strong as you." Seaver casts down her eyes. She probably doesn't want to hear that right now. "All I'm saying is don't rush it," Leighton adds. "You've had a rough few days."

Seaver shakes her head. "Hotch won't let me off easy this time," she says, and slumps back in her chair. The past three days had been absolute hell, but she hadn't spoken to anyone about it. She'd spend most of the time on the brink of tears, but too proud to let her distress overtake her. In the end, her distress had turned into the very thing Leighton always warned her about. She'd been reckless.

"You might be in the doghouse for a while, but it'll get better."

"You don't think I screwed up?" Seaver asks, and she asks only because this time she can really use the answer to the question.

"I think I've screwed up worse in the past," Leighton answers. "And I turned out fine." Seaver manages a halfhearted smile. "Come on," Leighton says, and walks over to her own desk, grabbing her things together.

"You guys ready?" Reid asks, joining them in the bullpen.

Seaver looks at Reid, then back at Leighton. "Where are we going?" she asks. Reid and Leighton have been so good to her ever since she joined the team. She often thinks Leighton had a much harder time adjusting to the team, but she also knows that was mostly because of Emily's death and their subsequent reactions to it.

"Out for a drink," Leighton says.

Seaver hesitates. "I don't—"

"Just one drink," Leighton insists, and Seaver can tell she won't be backing down or taking no for an answer. "After that you can wallow all you want."

* * *

><p><strong>(4)<strong>

**date:** October 10th, 2011

Leighton knocks on the door, even though she can see Morgan isn't at his desk. "Morgan?" she asks, but when she enters she can see the office is abandoned. She'd seen Morgan earlier, so she assumes he just stepped out for a few minutes. There are several files open on his desk. Leighton checks her watch, tapping her fingers against the small card in her hand.

She rounds Morgan's desk, set on leaving him a post-it note about what to do with the card. Her eyes are almost immediately drawn to a picture in a file on the desk. _Ian Doyle_. Why would Morgan still have a file on Ian Doyle? Taking a closer look, Leighton sees Morgan has added notes to the file himself, and there are Interpol updates that are only a week old. Why is he investigating Doyle on his own?

When she hears footsteps in the hallway she grabs the post-it note. Morgan enters his office with a fresh cup of coffee, halting in his tracks as soon as he lays eyes on Leighton.

"I was just leaving you a note," Leighton says, holding up the card. "For Reid's birthday."

"Right," Morgan says, and they switch places in the room, Leighton moving closer to the door again, Morgan moving behind his desk. He opens the birthday card and writes down a message for Reid. "You're sure he doesn't want a party?" Morgan asks. "Thirty's kind of a big deal."

"I'm sure," Leighton answers. She knows Garcia baked Reid a cake for later today, but he didn't want any bigger fuss. "With his headaches and all..." Leighton shrugs; she doesn't want to talk about it. She can hardly stand to talk to Reid about it, because that means making it real. It's egotistical to think about herself in this matter, because she imagines Reid is more freaked out over all of this, but if she thinks about it her mind starts racing to worst-case scenarios. And she can't deal with that.

"Still?" Morgan asks. He hasn't heard much more about it since Reid told him. At the time he'd believed it was more stress over losing Emily than anything else. But even now he refuses to believe that Reid is unraveling like his mother has. His mind is still too sharp for that, despite his headaches.

Leighton nods. "I try not to think about it too much." Morgan hands her the card back in silence. It isn't much, but Leighton doesn't want Reid to feel too uncomfortable on a day that's supposed to be celebratory. Leighton turns, but halts in the doorway. "Morgan—" she starts.

"Let me guess," Morgan interrupts. "This is the part where you tell me what I'm doing isn't healthy?"

"No," Leighton says, even though she wants to. Maybe there's a different way to tell him. Just because Morgan hasn't let her in yet, doesn't mean she hasn't let him in and started considering him as a close friend. "It's just—you might not want to do it alone."

"Everyone's accepted Emily's gone." Morgan shakes his head. Is he trying to say he hasn't? Is he still stuck in the denial phase of his grieving? "She's gone," he amends, before Leighton can start lecturing him about the proper ways to mourn someone. "And this son of a bitch is somewhere out there." He points at the picture of Doyle on his desk.

"You're not the only one who feels that way," Leighton says, careful not to make her tone sound too preachy. Reid doesn't talk much about it, nor do any of the others, but she knows all of them still miss Emily every day. It's not such a strange thing for Morgan to want to catch Doyle so badly. If anyone ever hurt her family like that, there's nothing that could stop her from going after them. "I'm sure if the others knew—"

"No," Morgan says forcibly. "I don't want them to sign up for that pain again."

"And what about you?" Leighton asks.

Morgan takes a breath. "She was in my arms, Leighton," he says. Leighton's surprised to hear him call her by her first name. "She was—" Morgan shakes his head. Leighton understands, Morgan hasn't once stopped fighting the hurt, while the others have accepted it in their lives.

"Well, if you want to talk, you know where to find me."

Morgan looks at her for a moment, then nods. He knows he's playing this pretty close to the chest; he's not supposed to be investigating Doyle at all, it's out of his jurisdiction, but he can't help himself. Emily was his friend, and he knows she would have done the same for him.

* * *

><p><strong>(5)<strong>

**date:** November 12th, 2011

The toddler sitting on Reid's lap throws the toy car to the floor and starts crying instantly, all but screaming his little lungs out.

"Here we go," JJ says, and laughs, but doesn't make a move to console her son. Instead, she settles back in her chair, feeling Will's arm wrap around her shoulder. They've both grown used to these stubborn tantrums over the past few weeks.

"Oh," Kevin says, sitting to Reid's left, and snatches the toy from the floor, handing it back to Henry. But Henry doesn't calm down, he only starts crying more.

"Aww," Garcia laughs as well.

Reid looks to his right, his eyes begging for Leighton to help him out. Henry's cries for attention are only making his head feel worse. His headaches have been pretty much constant for a week now, and he's reached a point where he doesn't even care what it is anymore; he just needs them to stop.

"Here," Leighton says, and grabs one of Henry's new toys from the table. Will had spent a good twenty minutes putting it together. "Is this what you're looking at?" Leighton asks, and as soon as the toy is within Henry's reach, the little boy stops crying.

Kevin nudges Garcia with his elbow. "She speaks baby," he beams.

Reid leans in closer to Henry. "Traitor," he says, but he's happy to see that his insistence to bring Leighton today had proven to be the right choice. Leighton had felt like she was imposing, even though Reid had tried his best to convince her that JJ told him to bring her along.

"You ever think of having one of your own?" Will asks.

Leighton looks at Will, and chuckles. "Oh no, not just yet," she laughs. When she sees the amount of time her sister puts into raising her children – albeit Natalie has four of them – she can't imagine ever having children. But then JJ has managed it perfectly for the past three years. "I'm quite happy being the doting aunt who gets to spoil the children."

"Exactomundo." Garcia smiles. Henry reaches for his Auntie Penelope. "Way more fun," Garcia adds, and takes Henry over from Reid.

JJ gets up from her chair. "I'll go make us all some coffee," she says, taking hold of some dirty plates. Reid opens his mouth, but JJ has corrected her statement before he gets the chance to say anything. "And some tea," she adds.

"Here, I'll give you a hand," Leighton says, collecting the rest of the plates, and follows JJ to the kitchen. She has to admit she's not entirely comfortable here, even though Will, Kevin and Garcia is the best company there is, and JJ and Reid are both very good friends of hers. Still, she can't help but feel like she's intruding.

"How many children does your sister have again?" JJ asks, filling the water boiler.

"Three boys, one girl," Leighton answers.

"God, how does she manage?

Leighton shrugs, and laughs. Her sister Natalie had always wanted a lot of children, even in her teens she was planning out how many she'd have. Luckily for Natalie her husband had wanted a nest filled with children as well. Her brother Ben was slightly different: ever since meeting his girlfriend he wanted to be a father, but only wanted one or two children. "She's Super Woman."

"Will's right, you know," JJ says, and turns to face Leighton. She remembers a similar conversation she had with Emily a few years ago, after a case in Denver. Emily would have made a great mother, strict when she needed to be, but mostly compassionate and loving and caring in every way. She hasn't gotten the chance to see Leighton with her niece and nephews, but from what she's heard, and how she's seen her treat Henry, JJ can imagine Leighton being just as loving and caring. "You'd make a great mother."

Leighton takes a breath and smiles. Unlike her siblings, she's never given any serious thought about being a mother. Right now it's still just a playful thought, a what-if scenario she played out from time to time. It's a nice scenario though, her as a mother, but she's never been able to imagine motherhood combined with this job. She knows that if she ever does become a mother, she'll walk away from all of this. "One day," Leighton nods.

JJ can't stop herself from wondering if that _one day_ will be with Reid.

"Reid!" Garcia's voice sounds from the living room suddenly, followed by a dull thump.

When JJ and Leighton reach the living room again, Reid's on the floor, his hands pressed tight against his head. "What happened?" JJ asks, and walks over to Reid. Leighton crouches down beside him.

"My head," Reid chokes out. The pain is overwhelming, it's never been this bad. His head is pounding like someone put a sledgehammer to it—this is the worst headache he's had in his entire life. Something's terribly wrong— there's no way this can be psychosomatic. This is physical.

"Spence, look at me," Leighton says softly, that same comforting hand at the back of his neck. "_Spence_."

"I c—can't." Reid squeezes his eyes tightly shut, curling into a fetal position on the floor.

Leighton looks up at JJ. "We have to get him to a hospital," she says, her heart jackhammering in her chest.

* * *

><p><strong>if you can, please let me know what you think!<strong>


	13. Someday I'll Breathe Again

**author's notes:** everything medical in this chapter comes from the Internet. if there are mistakes or inconsistencies, blame them on my lack of research skills. sorry for the cliffhanger last chapter (if you ask around, people will tell you i enjoy them far too much) but i hope you all like the new chapter! thank you to everyone reviewing/enjoying, welcome to any new readers, and special thanks to my bestie **Inwenalas **for helping me work out the kinkies.

**characters:** Leighton Tanner (OC), Reid, JJ, Doctor Monroe (OC), Garcia, Morgan, Hotch, Rossi, Seaver, Natalie (OC)

**setting:** AU from 6x24_ - Supply & Demand_ onward_  
><em>

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

><p><strong>SCARS REMIND US WHERE WE'VE BEEN;;<strong>

****chapter twelve  
><strong>**

* * *

><p><strong>date:<strong> November 12-13th, 2011

**(8:15pm)**

The neurosurgeon the ER doctors called down half an hour ago shines a light in Reid's eyes, but he shies away from it almost immediately. JJ is by his side, holding Reid's hand, while Leighton waits further back in the room, leaning up against the wall. "What you're experiencing are called lightning headaches," Doctor Monroe says. "They usually occur when a blood vessel in the brain suddenly bursts."

Behind JJ, Leighton draws blood from the finger she's been chewing on for the past ten minutes.

"Like an aneurysm?" Reid asks without opening his eyes. The light hurts his eyes even more than before, and closing them doesn't help any longer. His neck's stiff as well. He knows the thought of an aneurysm should scare him senseless, but his head feels like it's been split open and he can't form any straight thought anymore. He's hardly aware of just how tight he's holding onto JJ's hand.

"That's what we have to determine," the doctor says, making some notes on Reid's medical chart. "Nurses will be by shortly to take you in for a CT scan and an angiogram."

"Can't you give him something for the pain?" JJ asks, not once releasing Reid's hand, and she's not intent on telling him he's close to hurting her. She has to be here for Reid now – behind her she can almost feel Leighton retreating inside herself. Rationally JJ knows that's just Leighton's way of coping with this whole situation, and Reid probably knows that as well, that's why she knows she'll have to put in some extra effort today. It's not difficult to do— Reid's like a younger brother to her.

"I'm afraid not," Doctor Monroe answers. "It could influence the test results. Once we know where the blood is we'll go in and fix the bleed. Until then I'm afraid he'll have to hang tight."

"You hear that, Spence?" JJ squeezes Reid's hand. "Hang tight." She smiles, but the smile falters fast. No one's really laughing. When Reid had collapsed on her living room floor not an hour ago everyone knew something was terribly wrong. Kevin and Will had helped Reid to her car, and Leighton and her had rushed him to the ER as soon as they could. Will had stayed behind to take care of Henry, Garcia and Kevin had gone home, but JJ's sure Garcia will be showing up at the hospital sooner or later.

JJ looks back at Leighton; she's still biting her nails. When their eyes meet, Leighton realizes JJ is calling her closer while she calls home, or the rest of the team. Leighton makes her way over to Reid as JJ exits the room. Leighton doesn't mean to cut herself off from Reid, she wants to be there for him more than ever, but it's not easy hearing a diagnosis like this, one that can damage Reid for good, one that can damage his _mind_ for good.

"At least I know I'm not crazy," Reid says, and feels Leighton taking his hand now. It should feel like a bigger relief than it does, but he can't focus on anything, his concentration is gone.

"I never thought you were crazy," Leighton says softly. She feels like stroking a hand through his hair, but she stops herself. Reid's clearly in a lot of pain, and she doesn't want to add to that. He's downplaying his condition because of the pain, and somewhere deep down Leighton wishes she could feel the same thing. She knows her own feelings don't matter much right now, but it's difficult not to protect herself first, shield herself from having to go through this.

"Could you turn off the lights?" Reid asks; he tries to look at her but fails. He lies back, but doesn't let go of Leighton's hand.

"Sure."

The nurses come and take Reid not long after, and JJ joins Leighton in the room again a few minutes later. "I gave everyone a call," JJ says, and looks at Leighton intently. Leighton's staring down at her feet, arms crossed over her chest, now chewing her lips instead of biting her nails. JJ thinks Leighton must have a whole array of nervous ticks to run through in situations like this. "Morgan and Garcia are already on their way."

Leighton smiles without looking up. "You know he won't like all the attention."

"Leigh—" JJ takes a step closer to her and puts a hand on her arm. She can see Leighton's struggle playing right inside her eyes, but Leighton seems to be fighting it with all she's got. JJ wants to tell her that she doesn't have to, it's not always her job to be strong, especially not now that Reid's out of sight for a while, but Leighton interrupts her before she gets the chance.

"I'll be okay," Leighton says, her heart racing. Her entire body feels tense, every muscle strained, like it's spooling into a permanent setting just to make sure she doesn't feel too much at the same time. She's putting on a strong façade, because her feelings don't matter now, only Reid's do. "I'm just nervous."

* * *

><p><strong>(9:10pm)<strong>

Reid's tests take almost an entire hour to be completed. JJ and Leighton sit in the waiting room in complete silence the entire time. Usually they have things to tell each other, about their families or about work, but their collective worry for Reid becomes tangible in the silence between them. When the nurses wheel him into his new room on the second floor of the hospital, Reid is half asleep.

The doctor joins them just outside his room not long after. He regards both women separately, but can't find any family resemblance in either of them. So what's their connection to his patient? "Your—" Doctor Monroe hesitates. It's not polite to make assumptions, least of all in these circumstances. He looks at both women for help, but Leighton is staring at Reid over her shoulder.

"Colleague," JJ fills in.

"Your _colleague_ has what we call an Intracranial Berry Aneurysm," Doctor Monroe says. "His migraines have been trying to warn him for a while now. Unfortunately conditions like these don't show up on CT scans before rupturing."

Leighton turns her head. "But you can fix it." It's a plea more than it is a question.

"Yes." Doctor Monroe picks up on Leighton's tone immediately – he's used to the sound so he recognizes it when he hears it. He gives her as straight an answer as he has. "We use a technique called Microvascular Clipping. It will effectively cut off the blood flow to the aneurysm and stop the hemorrhage."

"JJ," a voice calls out from the other end of the hall. It's Morgan and Garcia.

"Excuse me," JJ says, and walks over to Morgan and Garcia to fill them in on what's going on. It feels eerily like she's here in her official capacity, about to tell a victim's loved ones what has happened to them.

Doctor Monroe turns his attention to Leighton. It almost seems as if she doesn't want to be here, or is at the least extremely on edge over being here. "Does Dr Reid have someone at home to take care of him?" he asks.

"He has all of us," Leighton says.

"No siblings? His parents?" Doctor Monroe asks. In his experience, colleagues don't make house calls all too often. Then again, he hadn't expected more of them to show up at the hospital. "A girlfriend, maybe?" he adds carefully, and sees Leighton respond immediately.

"He has me," Leighton snaps, her tone more offensive than she'd intended, but she doesn't apologize. Whatever it takes, no matter the cost, she's going to see Reid through this.

"I see." Doctor Monroe makes some final notes on Reid's chart, and addresses Leighton one final time. She's back to staring inside the room – maybe he'd misinterpreted her reluctance to be here; he can see it now, she cares for Dr Reid. "His surgery is scheduled in a few hours. We've give him some pain medication. In the meantime, make sure you all get some rest. It might be a long night."

Leighton nods without looking at him.

Garcia walks over to her, tears in her eyes. "Hey," she says, and rubs Leighton's arm. Leighton puts her own hand over Garcia's, both women staring back at Reid, lying eyes-closed in his bed.

* * *

><p><strong>(10:35pm)<strong>

Hotch and Rossi arrive not long after Morgan and Garcia, and the rest of them are soon joined by Seaver as well. They don't spend any time talking to Reid, mostly because the nurses don't allow more than two people in his room at the same time, and everyone allows a steady rotation between Leighton, JJ and Garcia. It's not something they have to talk about, it's just a logical pattern they fall into.

When the orderlies come to take Reid to the OR, everyone says something to him, to give him courage, telling him to hang in there and they'll see him soon. All of them know Reid doesn't like all the attention, but it's something they all have to do to come to terms with their own feelings. And Reid would never deny them that.

JJ, Leighton and Garcia fall behind once the hallway ends in a door that reads _restricted access_, knowing only one of them is allowed beyond that point. "Go with him," JJ tells Leighton, and gives her an encouraging smile when Leighton looks at her. Leighton feels Garcia's hand at her back as well.

Leighton follows behind the bed slowly, until she's standing next to Reid's bed just outside the operating room. Her heart's still racing, and she's starting to feel nauseous, words stuck at the back of her throat. She can't tell Reid what she's thinking, what she's _feeling_. It wouldn't be fair to drop that on him now.

"Could you—hold onto this for me?" Reid asks, and passes her a sealed white envelope.

"What is it?" Leighton asks, taking hold of the envelope. There's no name or address on it, so Leighton assumes Reid will tell her what to do with it.

"It's a letter for my mom?" Reid says.

Leighton's heart skips a beat, but she wills herself to stay strong. She swallows hard. "Oh, okay," her voice cracks, and she's reminded of that message Reid recorded for his mom when he got infected by Anthrax. It broke her heart to know it back then. It's breaking her heart now.

"Leighton," Reid says, but Leighton keeps her eyes downcast. "Leigh," Reid insists. When Leighton finally looks at him, her eyes are filled with tears. "I'll be fine," Reid says. He lies, because he's finally let the fear in and seeing Leighton struggle isn't calming him down.

Leighton takes a breath, and sniffles. "I know." She nods. She lies, she doesn't know that, it's just what everyone hopes for Reid.

Two orderlies join them in the hallway. "We have to take him now," one of them says.

Leighton leans in, strokes Reid's hair back, and plants a kiss on his forehead. "I'll see you soon," she whispers, suddenly struck by the silly thought she's going to miss whatever patch of hair the nurses will have to shave off of Reid's head.

When the door to the OR closes in front of her eyes, Leighton watches it for minutes. Her mind is blank. She leans back against the wall, releasing a breath that shudders through her body. She places her hands flat against the wall behind her, maybe looking for something to hold onto, maybe just to make sure she can still feel it.

* * *

><p><strong>(1:05am)<strong>

Leighton doesn't join the rest of the team again after seeing Reid to the operating room. She knows secluding herself might not be the best idea, but no one comes to say anything to her about it. The white envelope Reid handed her lies on her chair, heavier than it really is. Reid wrote the letter for his mom in case something went wrong. Leighton had refused to think about that scenario, but now that the letter was there she's almost forced to think about it. Maybe that's why she's been pacing the hallway for the better part of half an hour, biting her nails again.

"She's going to wear herself down," Rossi says, looking at Leighton through the glass doors. Morgan had followed Garcia and Seaver down to the cafeteria to get everyone some coffee or another hot drink, so it was just him and Hotch now. But Rossi can feel the tension even now, crawling just below the surface. Everyone is trying really hard to forget the last time they were here. The night Emily died.

Hotch follows Rossi's gaze outside. Leighton is pacing back and forth in the hallway; she probably realized doing it in front of the team would get them nervous as well. "I think she's trying really hard not to pick up smoking again."

"You know you don't have to be here, Aaron," Rossi says. "Reid's going to be in surgery for hours."

Hotch nods. "Jack's with Haley's sister for the weekend," he says. It had been planned for some time, so he saw no need to go home and just sit in his apartment by himself. Not when he can be here to support his team. Hotch realizes all too well that they're not all in the same room because it reminds them too much of the last time they were in a hospital together. The night his lie started. "Right now my place is here." He can be here for this team in a way he couldn't be with them the night Emily left.

Morgan, Seaver and Garcia join them again a few minutes later. JJ had disappeared right after Reid had been taken into the OR; she said she'd go home for a bit to be with Will and Henry, but everyone knew she was concocting something else. None of them knew exactly what. "Has she sat down at all?" Seaver asks, looking at Leighton in the distance.

"Not yet," Rossi answers.

Morgan sighs, and grabs another cup of coffee for Leighton. He approaches her slowly, taking his time to reach her. "Hey," he says, and Leighton finally seems to snap out of her thoughts. "Here." He hands her the styrofoam cup. "It's not much, but it's hot."

Leighton sighs, more from exhaustion than anything else. "Thanks," she says, and sits down on one of the chairs lining the walls.

"You know he's going to be okay, right?" Morgan asks. "They do surgeries like this all the time," he says, trying to reassure Leighton, even though he doesn't _really_ know that.

"Yeah, I know," Leighton says, to reassure Morgan that she's just running herself into the ground because she's nervous. "I just don't like waiting like this." Most of her memories of hospitals were bad ones, and she can't imagine this time being any different. The silence makes her nervous, the whiteness puts her on edge. The waiting is driving her insane.

Morgan puts a hand on her knee, and squeezes, but gets up to leave after only a few moments have passed. He knows that maybe he should stay by her side – Leighton's been secluding herself but that doesn't mean she can't use someone there with her. But he can't be that person for her right now. He wants to be alone as well. He wanders the halls aimlessly for what seems forever, avoiding the waiting room the rest of his team is in, avoiding the second floor altogether.

"There you are," Garcia's voice reaches him half an hour later, and he hears her coming closer by the rattle her heels makes on the linoleum floor. "I was beginning to wonder where you'd disappeared of to." He's right outside the hospital, peering into the dark night without really looking at anything. Garcia hooks an arm in his, and rests her head against his shoulder. "Are you doing okay?" she asks.

"Yeah," he says, even though none of them are _doing okay_. No hospital visit is ever fun in this line of work, but right now it's too soon after they lost Emily. They can all feel it. "I just can't be in that room," he adds. He doesn't have much hope left, if he ever had any to begin with.

* * *

><p><strong>(2:53am)<strong>

Four hours into Reid's surgery, Leighton finally caves. She needs to talk to someone, someone on the outside, someone she loves and trusts to tell her exactly what she needs to hear. In most situations that would be her brother Benjamin. In this situation, there's only one person that can help her. Leighton gets the answering machine three times before someone picks up the phone.

"Hello?" a sleep-filled voice sounds from the other end.

"Hey, sis," Leighton says softly.

"Leighton?" Natalie asks. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

It only then occurs to Leighton to check for the time—almost three in the morning. "God, I'm sorry," Leighton breathes and closes her eyes, placing a hand over them. "I wasn't—" her voice shakes, even though she's trying her hardest to keep it together. It had worked just fine up until now, but hearing her sister's voice suddenly breaks through whatever defenses she'd carefully set up the past few hours. "I just needed to talk to someone."

Leighton guesses something in her voice gives away just how terrible she's feeling, because Natalie immediately reins in her passive-aggressive tone. "Leighton, what's wrong?" she asks, a concern in her voice she doesn't often show her sister. "Did something happen at work?" It's an honest question as well as an accusation, but Leighton doesn't care. She just needs to talk to someone.

"No. It's Spencer. He's—" A wave of tears hits her out of the blue. She'd been able to keep them at bay for the entire night, but maybe deep down she knew talking to her sister would bring them on. "Oh God, I'm scared, Nat," Leighton chokes out, keeping her eyes covered. "I'm so scared."

"Leigh, don't do this," Natalie says, her voice different suddenly, strong and motherly, and encouraging. "You have to stay strong."

"I know." Leighton nods to herself. This is what she needed to hear. The rest of her team would allow her to cry, would tell her it's okay to feel this way, would even accept her crying in front of them. But that's not in her nature. "I know."

"He'll be fine," Natalie says, even though it's not the most comforting word to hear from her sister. "Be strong, baby sister. You'll both make it through this just fine."

That's what Leighton loves most about her sister; when it really comes down to it, Natalie's the one that truly knows her. Maybe most of their disagreements even stem from their similarities. "Thanks, sis," Leighton says, and wipes the tears from her cheeks. "I love you."

"Love you too, sis," Natalie says.

There's a tapping of heels to Leighton's left, and she looks up to see Garcia make her way towards her carefully. Garcia sits down beside her, and just takes a tight hold of Leighton's hand. They sit in silence for another hour. Morgan had been right, Garcia thinks, Morgan had been right to encourage her to do this.

* * *

><p><strong>if you can, please let me know what you think!<strong>


	14. Kaleidoscope Heart

**author's notes:** i decided i needed another chapter like this, and my beta **Inwenalas** (bless her soul) assured me that i could get away with it. apologies to **Dalonega Noquisi** for putting her through the physical torture of having to wait for Leighton and Reid to get back together again :) you know what they say, can't rush perfection (modesty isn't my strong suit). thank you to everyone reviewing, hope you all enjoy the new chapter!

**characters:** Leighton Tanner (OC), Reid, Doctor Monroe (OC), Garcia, Hotch, Rossi, Seaver, Morgan, JJ, Diana Reid

**setting:** AU from 6x24_ - Supply & Demand_ onward_  
><em>

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

><p><strong>SCARS REMIND US WHERE WE'VE BEEN;;<strong>

****chapter thirteen  
><strong>**

* * *

><p><strong>date:<strong> November 13th, 2011

**(4:07am)**

By the time Doctor Monroe comes down to the second floor, the entire team has moved to the waiting room. The room is completely silent and no one is moving, safe for Leighton picking at her nails. Hotch and Rossi are still seated next to each other on one side of the room; hours have passed but they've hardly spoken a word. What's there to say anyway? That they're worried about Reid? The truth is that they're all prepared for the worst, they've readied themselves for the worst possible news and maybe already _accepted_ it. It's the only way to be here, the only way of coping.

The tension in the room is tangible.

Leighton's sitting between Garcia and Seaver; after talking to her sister on the phone, she'd sat alone with Garcia for what had seemed forever, but they'd eventually joined the others in the waiting room. JJ still hadn't returned from whatever she had planned. Morgan is the only one standing, remaining restless and unwilling to join the others in their silence.

When the doctor walks through the door, everyone sitting stands up and Morgan walks over. Doctor Monroe is surprised to see just how many of Dr Reid's colleagues have come to show their support. "The surgery went well," he says, and he can see a collective sigh of relief spread through the room. Doctor Monroe can tell these people have been here before, this struggle with uncertainty. "There were no complications."

"So he's going to be okay?" Garcia asks, her tone high-pitched and anxious.

Doctor Monroe takes a breath and checks himself. It's best not to be too positive after an invasive surgery like this, and judging by the expressions on the faces currently directed at him, he'd better not sound too optimistic. If 'optimism' is even in these people's vocabularies. "The major concern after an operation like this is a stroke," he says, eyes focusing on each face before continuing. "Dr Reid will be monitored closely throughout the week for what we call vasospasms, which is constriction of the blood flow in the brain. Once he wakes up we'll know more, but it looks promising. He'll be in recovery for a few hours, but once he's awake you'll be allowed to see him."

"Thank you," Hotch says, ending the conversation with one of his stern nods.

Doctor Monroe leaves, and another silence spreads through the room. They're all in their own minds for a while, deciding on whether to stick with their worst-case scenario thinking, or share in the doctor's cautious optimism. Leighton knows it's not in her nature to go for the latter, so her heart rate doesn't come down, nor does her nervous fiddling stop. Any moment now, she'll start pacing the room again.

Rossi is the first one to speak. It's not hard to figure out which end of the spectrum he's decided on. "I think we could all use some real food," he says, hands in his pockets. "My treat," he adds, and it earns him a few smiles. They're all tired and could use a good meal before facing what could be another day in the hospital.

Rossi turns, and walks out the door. The rest of the team follows behind him silently, but Leighton lingers inside the waiting room. Morgan walks over to her. "I think I'll stay here," Leighton says. It doesn't seem fair towards her friends, because it's as if she's telling them she refuses to spend time with them, but she can't pretend Reid is out of the woods yet, and she can't eat anyway. To her surprise though, no one utters a complaint. Instead, there's an air of acceptance coming over all of them. Maybe most of them even appreciate Leighton staying behind to watch over Reid. Seaver smiles at her softly, and follows Hotch and Rossi out of the room.

"You know he won't be down for a few hours, right?" Morgan asks, Garcia still in the room with him and Leighton. He understands – if this had happened a few weeks earlier, maybe he'd blame Leighton for caring, the exclusivity she felt towards Reid. But being where they are now – albeit their relationship is still shaky at best – he can't blame her.

"Yeah," Leighton answers.

"But you're going to stay." Of course she's going to stay, Morgan thinks, it wouldn't even be hard to profile by an outsider. He _had_ been wrong all along, Reid and Leighton do care for each other, maybe even love each other, their personalities just often make it difficult for them to communicate.

"Is that inappropriate?" Leighton asks, a little more defensive than she'd intended.

"No." Morgan shrugs. Leighton casts down her eyes, a small smile tugging at a corner of her mouth beyond her control. "You're his baby girl," Morgan adds.

Leighton looks up, eyes wide, and smiles again, still mostly to herself. "I suppose I am." She's never thought of it that way, but hearing it from Morgan himself takes her completely by surprise. Maybe she is Reid's baby girl. It's not an unpleasant thought. Leighton doesn't know if this kindness on Morgan's part will last, or if it's just something he grants her because they're both so worried about Reid. But she hopes it will.

"You guys go ahead," Morgan says to Garcia, who just looks at the both of them for a second, smiles, and then follows the others. "Mind if I join you?" Morgan asks, sitting down across from Leighton.

"Not at all," she answers.

They don't say a word to each other, they don't need to. Reid's their common ground; he's where they started from when Leighton first joined the team, someone Morgan held onto in the hopes of avoiding alienating Leighton completely, and someone Leighton turned to whenever Morgan said or did something out of thinly disguised anger. Most of all, Reid was a safety net between them, buffering Morgan's blows and Leighton's indignation.

* * *

><p><strong>(7:37am)<strong>

He wakes up without being able to open his eyes, they feel heavy and his head feels like they stuffed it with cotton balls. It takes him another twenty minutes before the medication has somewhat worn off and he's able to pry his eyes open. There's a nurse hovering over him before he's registered his surroundings. He can hear a heart monitor beeping to his right, his heart rate slow and calm.

"Dr Reid," the nurse asks. "Do you know where you are?"

"In the ICU," he answers, and it's only when he realizes that they're routine questions after surgery that he knows he made it through the operation in one piece, and still seems to have enough faculties about him to realize things like that at all.

"Very good. I would have settled for 'hospital'," the nurse jokes. Reid opens his eyes with great difficulty, but is able to discern curls of red hair. "Do you know what happened to you?"

"I had brain surgery."

"That's right." The redhead nurse fiddles with something – he assumes it's his IV – then stands up straight next to him, making notes on his medical chart. "We'll wheel you down once the doctor's been down to see you. In the mean time, you should rest."

Reid gives up on trying to keep his eyes open the moment the nurse's final words are spoken. The sedatives are still weighing down on him heavily and he feels no particular need to fight it. He drifts back off into sleep. Doctor Monroe comes to see him half an hour later, shining a light in his eyes again; the relief he feels when the light doesn't hurt (not like it did before), and when there's no headache following, is so great that it almost makes him cry.

The headaches had plagued him for almost a year now, and somewhere deep inside he'd already accepted the doctors would never find something physically wrong with him. But now, the prospect of healing and getting better and be free of them forever, it's almost too much to hope for.

He doesn't realize he's dozed off again until he opens his eyes to a new room, one filled with soft whispers and a pair of warm hands on his arm. Blinking a few times, Leighton comes into focus—he feels his own arm twists uncooperatively, but Leighton seems to get the idea. "Hey," she says, one hand moving down his arm to take him by the hand, their fingers intertwining.

He's fairly sure he manages a small smile. "Hey."

"We've got to stop meeting like this, you know," Leighton says, only now feeling the semblance of relief and optimism. Maybe it's because she's able to see Reid again, just like that time he got infected by Anthrax. It's the uncertainty Leighton doesn't know how to deal with. But seeing him now, still woozy from the medication, it somehow reassures her that Reid will pull through this, with her helping him.

"What?" Reid frowns.

Leighton chuckles. "Never mind," she says, and sees Morgan shake his head in amusement. "How are you feeling?" Leighton asks, giving Reid's hand a squeeze. The surgical scar starts in his hairline and runs further back over his skull; only the hair surrounding the scar had been removed.

"I'm not really feeling anything right now," Reid says. It's true, whatever pain medication they had him on was doing the trick fine, even though he's slightly aware his scalp has been stapled up, the wound exposed. But after the pain he's suffered the past year it's hardly a matter of great urgency. "Did you get hold of my mom?" he asks, but can't remember if he asked Leighton to call her.

"JJ went to pick her up," Leighton answers. After the doctor's news earlier this morning, Garcia had called JJ with the update. As it turned out, JJ had left for Las Vegas as soon as Reid went into surgery.

"By plane?" Reid asks, his eyelids still heavy. "She hates flying."

"There wasn't anyone at the hospital that could stop her," another voice, Garcia's, fills up the room. Reid narrows his eyes to bring her face into focus. He wonders where he left his glasses; he could really use them now. "Hey, Reid," Garcia says, her voice small and frail, and she moves to stand next to Morgan.

"Hey, Garcia."

"You gave us all quite a scare," Garcia says, and takes hold of Reid's other hand.

"Sorry." Reid closes his eyes again.

"Get some sleep, kid," Morgan says. "We'll be around." Morgan looks at Leighton, and when their eyes meet there's an understanding there—he can see it now, the bond Leighton and Reid have, formed excruciatingly slow over the past three years, but now that it was there it seemed unbreakable.

Morgan backs out of the room with Garcia, leaving Leighton behind by Reid's bedside. She stays there for a few minutes longer, until she's sure Reid's fallen asleep. Then she disentangles her hand from Reid's, and sits down in the large armchair next to the bed. Something crackles against the fabric of the chair; the letter Reid wrote his mom. Leighton grabs it from her back pocket, stares at it for a moment, then tosses it in the trash can.

There's no need for it anymore.

* * *

><p><strong>(12:14pm)<strong>

The others come and see Reid through the rest of the morning. More than one of them urges Leighton to go home and get some sleep, or at the least something to eat and a hot shower, but she can't. She's not sure what it is, but she's afraid to let Reid out of her sight. If she does, then maybe they'll end up like they did before, apart, and she's not sure she can go back to that. Reid's headaches had given her an excuse to take care of him, to touch him, and even though she's overjoyed and more than a little grateful their cause had been established, and fixed, she's afraid of their bond unraveling again.

For the first time ever she truly realizes how much she _doesn't_ want that to happen.

Morgan and Garcia stop by Reid's apartment on his own request to get some things for him. They manage to unearth his glasses from between a few stacks of books, take some books with them, and a fresh outfit or two.

JJ arrives with Reid's mom around noon.

Peering inside her son's room, Diana Reid can see Leighton in an armchair next to Spencer's bed, asleep in a very awkward position, loosely covered by her jacket. "Has she been here the whole time?" Diana asks, hugging her shoulder bag close to her body. It's the first time she lays eyes on Leighton, but she's exactly the way Spencer had described her. Tall, but not as tall as Spencer, not quite as skinny either, and wavy brown hair that she's growing out.

"We've been trying to get her to go home," Garcia says, joining the conversation.

Diana shakes her head. "She won't leave." That she knows for sure. If Leighton's been here since yesterday, and is still by her son's side, there's a good chance she feels the same way about Spencer as he feels about her. Spencer's never told her about his feelings in so many words, but a mother knows these things.

"I'll tell her you're here," JJ says, taking a step forward.

"No." Diana puts a hand on JJ's shoulder. "Let her sleep."

JJ nods her understanding, and lets Diana pass her. JJ wants to go in and see Reid herself, but thinks that for now it's best to leave him alone with his mom. It surprises her to see Leighton's still here, even though she suspects Leighton's relationship with Reid has changed since the last time they discussed Leighton's reluctance to go sit by Reid's bedside. JJ smiles to herself, she can't help it.

"Hey, mom," Reid says when his mom enters the room. She's careful at first, but when she sees his scar she rushes to be by his side.

"Spencer—" she says, on the brink of tears.

Reid doesn't move. He hates to see his mother in such distress, and the thought that it was caused by him makes him feel even worse. "Mom, I'm okay."

"Why didn't you tell me about the headaches?" Diana puts a hand on Reid's cheek.

"I didn't want to worry you."

"I _always_ worry, Spencer," Diana shakes her head disapprovingly. "I'm your mother. I always worry."

"I know, I'm sorry."

When Leighton wakes up two hours later she can feel she hasn't gotten nearly enough sleep, but she becomes acutely aware that there's someone else in the room with her, sitting on the other side of Reid's bed. "Mrs Reid," Leighton exclaims, but keeps her voice down; Reid's fallen asleep again.

"Diana, please," Diana says, waving off the official title. But she can see Leighton almost blush. "He's told me so much about you I forget you don't know me." There was a time Leighton was the main subject of her son's letters, and still features on occasion, especially since Leighton joined his team. It was proof enough of how important a person Leighton is in Spencer's life.

Leighton's eyes go wide. "He's told you about me?" she asks.

"In his letters." Diana nods, but sees Leighton cast down her eyes shyly. Another thing Spencer had told her about. By the looks of her, Leighton isn't all that different from her son in that respect. "Thank you for taking care of him," Diana says, making Leighton look up at her again.

"It's not just me." Leighton shakes her head. It might seem that way because she's been here the entire time, but she has her own reasons for that. "The rest of the team—"

"The rest of the team!" Mrs Reid exclaims. She gets up from her chair and walks around the bed until she reaches Leighton. Diana is taller than Leighton, just like Reid. "My son has a brilliant mind," Diana says, with an awe in her voice only a mother can achieve. "Most brilliant mind I've ever encountered. I couldn't be more proud of him. But there's one thing he's been known to neglect." Diana points an index finger at Leighton's chest, right where her heart is. "Rest of the team doesn't take care of that."

* * *

><p><strong>(8:07pm)<strong>

"'_That isn't important,' said Hollis_," Leighton reads aloud, settled back comfortably in the armchair next to Reid's bed."_And it was not. It was gone. When life is over it is like a flicker of bright film, an instant on the screen, all of its prejudices and passions condensed and illumined for an instant on space, and before you could cry out, 'There was a happy day, there a bad one, there an evil face, there a good one,' the film burned to a cinder, the screen went dark._"

Leighton's not a big reader, not in the way that Reid is, but she thinks she's already grown to like this book. She wonders if that has to do with the actual words on the page, or with Reid.

"What—" Reid's voice stops her reading. He must have just woken up again. "What are you doing?" he asks, trying to sit up straighter in the bed, but his pillow doesn't cooperate.

"I'm reading to you," Leighton answers, and gets up to help Reid. She rearranges the pillow under his head, careful not to move too much, smoothing down the edges. "Your mom got tired. I told her I'd take over from her."

Reid glances to his right. "She's still here," he says, looking at his mother. He knows he should have told her about the headaches sooner. What if the doctors hadn't been able to fix it, and all he'd left her with was that lousy letter he'd given to Leighton to keep safe? But how could he have told her about the fear that he'd turn out just like her? That's accusing her of things that weren't her fault to begin with.

"I don't think she'll leave before you get out of the hospital."

He smiles to himself. "This isn't how I pictured the two of you meeting," he says. It's funny, he'd always dreaded his mother meeting Leighton, afraid she might not approve, or do something to embarrass him. He knows he shouldn't think about his mother that way, because he loves her more than anything, but he can't help it. In many ways, he's ashamed of her. "What is this?" he asks when he feels a book touching his hand. He picks it up and studies the cover; it's one of his. "_The Illustrated Man_. One of my favorites."

"I know," Leighton says, wondering exactly how often Reid has imagined a scenario where she and his mother would meet.

He can see Leighton's tired, and he knows that he should probably tell her to get some sleep, but now that he's finally awake he'd like to hear her voice. "Could you—?" he starts carefully.

Leighton smiles. "I'll keep going."

Before Leighton gets the chance to sit back down, Reid calls out her name. "Leigh?" he says, because he has to. Things have to change; _he_ has to change, and Leighton has to change for them to be able to meet in the middle. And he desperately wants that to happen, he wants them to give their relationship another shot. But he knows that will only happen if he starts communicating his feelings better.

"Yeah."

"Thanks for being here," he says.

"No problem." Leighton smiles softly. She sits back down, and searches for the page she was reading a minute ago. She's never done anything like this before, _been_ there for someone for as long as her body would physically let her. Reid's the first person she's ever wanted to make the effort for.

"_From this outer edge of his life, looking back, there was only one remorse,_" Leighton reads, very aware that Reid is listening to her every word, "_and that was only that he wished to go on living. Did all dying people feel this way, as if they had never lived? Did life seem that short, indeed, over and done before you took a breath?_"

* * *

><p><strong>if you can, please let me know what you think!<strong>


	15. Let's Meet In The Middle

**author's notes:** sorry for the slight delay in update, my mind got possessed by a new original story that demanded some attention. i hope everyone enjoys the new chapter! thank you so much for everyone taking the time to review, and welcome to any new readers (i've noticed my alerts on this story increasing steadily, and it makes me crazy excited!) super special thanks to my beta **Inwenalas** for her support, her ideas, and her squee!

**characters:** Leighton Tanner (OC), Reid, Morgan, JJ, Joshua (OC), Joe (OC), Natalie (OC), Rossi, Seaver, Hotch, mention of Garcia

**setting:** AU from 6x24_ - Supply & Demand_ onward_  
><em>

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

><p><strong>SCARS REMIND US WHERE WE'VE BEEN;;<strong>

****chapter fourteen  
><strong>**

* * *

><p><strong>(1)<strong>

**date:** December 1st, 2011

Leighton enters the flat using Reid's spare key. He thought she should have it if she was going to be dropping by more often.

"Spence?" she calls out, peering inside Reid's one bedroom apartment, but he's not in the living room or the kitchen. She sets her bags down on the living room coffee table and sets off in search for Reid. The bedroom door is ajar, and when she takes a look inside, she sees Reid asleep on the bed, his glasses sunken crookedly on his nose. He's surrounded by books.

Smiling to herself, Leighton closes the bedroom door again, going into the kitchen to make herself some tea and fetch some plates for dinner. She can feel exhaustion in her every movement, her limbs feel heavy and her head stuffed, still reeling from her last case, which was an extremely brutal one—compared to usual that is. It dawns on her that it's not just the case—she's been dividing all her time between work and Reid and sooner or later, she fears it'll start taking its toll.

The cat nestling near her feet shakes her from her thoughts. "Hey, Serge," Leighton says, and crouches down to pet Sergio. When Reid had first adopted Emily's cat it had worried Leighton—if this was some strange way of keeping Emily close she could think of less immediate ways to do so, but she knows that if it hadn't been Reid, Garcia would have taken in the homeless cat. And she has to admit she's grown rather attached to Sergio now.

Back home, with her parents running a bed and breakfast, and owning a considerable piece of land, there were always stray cats that came begging for food, cats their dog Mutt chased around the backyard. "I better not find out Spence already fed you," Leighton says, filling a bowl with some fish, "because you'll be in big trouble, mister."

"Are you talking to the cat?" Reid's voice sounds from behind her suddenly, and she almost stumbles back across the floor; she hadn't even heard him opening the bedroom door. It's just more proof of how little time she's spending on herself.

"A lot of people talk to cats," Leighton answers, letting Reid pull her up from the floor. His scar has healed up nice this past month, and his hair has even started to grow back. Still, anyone could see that he went through major surgery. "I hope I didn't wake you," Leighton says, straightening herself out.

"No," Reid answers, and goes to sit on the couch. It's then that he notices the food ready on the table. "Is that Indian?" he asks.

"Don't say I don't take care of you," Leighton teases, but Reid hardly responds. She sees him taking off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. Leighton knows what that means by now: a tension headache. Reid has them on and off now, depending on what time of day it is, and whether or not he got enough sleep. The doctors had told him to get as much rest as he possibly could, but Leighton had soon found out that was easier said than done in Reid's case. She wonders if he ever slept at all before all this happened.

Leighton hands him his bottle of pain medication. "Thanks." Reid frowns, opening the bottle and taking a pill. Normally he doesn't like taking pain medication, but his doctor had told him it could only help him, and there would be times during his recovery when he'd need them. Plus, he knows how worried Leighton gets whenever he's in pain now.

"I see you went out for books," Leighton says, sitting down next to him, unwrapping their food.

Reid knows it's a thinly veiled accusation, because he's not supposed to go out on his own. But after spending two entire weeks at the hospital, being monitored closely by nurses and doctors, and staying indoor the past two weeks, he just needed to get out. And during the day Leighton hardly ever has the time. He could have waited for the weekend, but there's no certainty Leighton wouldn't have to work then, and he'd been racing through his books faster than ever. "I needed some fresh air," he answers eventually, and is grateful when Leighton only smiles at him—it's something between a scowl and a smile, but he'll take it.

"You don't have to come here every day, you know," he adds tentatively, looking down at his hands. He knows it hasn't been every day, sometimes JJ or Garcia stop by, even Seaver or Morgan, but mostly it's been Leighton. "I'm sure you've got better things to do." He laughs, but it's timid. Leighton just got back from a case, and he can understand she doesn't want to be alone right now, and some part of him is glad she finds solace in his company. Still, he doesn't want Leighton to wear herself down.

Leighton regards him for a second, and wonders what she _would_ be doing if she weren't here. She'd probably be curled up on her couch with something to eat. Alone. "No, I don't," she answers, and Reid looks at her. "I like spending time with you. You should know that by now."

He's grateful she doesn't say _take care_ of him, because that implies that once he no longer needs that help, she'll stop coming around.

Suddenly, the cat jumps on Reid's lap, and settles down between them. "And Sergio," Reid jokes, and smiles awkwardly.

Leighton chuckles. "Of course." She settles back in the sofa, and takes a breath, watching Reid get his food together. She's not very hungry herself. "So, what's on the menu for tonight?" she asks, seeing a DVD resting on top of the television already. It's become sort of a habit for them, to crawl up on the sofa together and watch television.

"Oh, you're going to love this," Reid says, and gets up from the couch to pop the movie in the DVD player. "It's a classic _Doctor Who_ tale called _The Five Doctors_. The first five actors to ever play the doctor all star, and they're forced to work together to defeat all their greatest enemies."

Leighton can only smile at his enthusiasm.

When Leighton falls asleep, about halfway into the movie, Reid turns down the volume so he doesn't wake her. It's not the first time she's fallen asleep on his couch, and he suspects it won't be the last time, because she's never listened to him when he told her to go home or urged her not come by at all just so she could get some rest. Leighton never listens. He hopes that doesn't come back to haunt her.

Before going to bed himself, Reid takes off Leighton's shoes, and covers her up with a blanket.

* * *

><p><strong>(2)<strong>

**date:** December 14th, 2011

Her disregard for herself catches up with her sooner than she'd expected. But Leighton supposes she's lucky her injury is minor. Riding in an ambulance to the hospital was embarrassing to say the least, but when Rossi had found her in the warehouse, clutching her ankle in absolute agony and unable to get up, he'd insisted on it. So now here she is, in the ER again, only now _she_'s the patient and in a considerable amount of pain.

"Tanner." Morgan rushes into the room, out of breath, almost as if he ran from the warehouse all the way to the hospital. "You okay?" he asks, eyes riddled with concern, even if he's already concluded Leighton's just hurt her leg, not anything more life-threatening. "What happened out there?"

Leighton shakes her head. She's just as confused about it all as Morgan is. He was right in front of her, chasing their UnSub down in the abandoned warehouse he was hiding. "I just—I thought I'd make it, but the door—" There was a big refrigerator door closing; Morgan had just slipped through and Leighton was certain she'd make it as well. Except the door closed on her ankle before she managed to make it; the door had slammed down on the bone hard, and left her incapacitated. "Damn it."

"Tanner, it's okay," Morgan says, relaxing his shoulders. He was about to lecture her about having his back out there, but he can tell Leighton's already beating herself up about it. "We caught the guy."

"I know, but I wasn't paying attention." Leighton sighs, clamping her hands around the gurney she's on. How could she have been so stupid? She knows pushing herself to these extremes isn't justified in her line of work. "If I had I wouldn't be here right now."

"What's up with you?" Morgan frowns. Most of them deal with tiredness on a regular basis, but Leighton's been taking that to a whole new level. "You've been tired and distracted."

"I'm fine," Leighton lies, rubbing her eyes wearily. "I just need to find my focus again."

"Agent Tanner," the ER doctor's voice sounds through the room, and he walks in with her X-rays. "Let's have a look," the doctor says, putting up the X-rays on the light box, studying them closely. "Looks like you took quite a hit. There appears to be a hairline fracture in your fibula."

Leighton hangs her head. _Damn it_.

"Nothing too bad compared to what it could have been," the doctor continues. "You'll be in a cast for a while and walking with crutches. But fractures like these usually heal nicely." The doctor is trying to put Leighton at ease, but it's not having its desired effect. Leighton knows she was stupid, maybe _reckless_ even— not in her having Morgan's back, but thinking she could juggle this job with taking care of Reid as well.

"I'll call Hotch," Morgan says, and leaves the room to make the call.

_Reckless_, yet again. She'd made herself the excuse that taking care of Reid was a noble cause; he didn't have any other people to take care of him, he wasn't supposed to be alone for at least another month or so, so Leighton and the team was all he had. And obviously the excuse had worked, that's why she was here now, completely exhausted, in pain, and despairing. And once Reid finds out what happened he won't be too pleased with her either. She doesn't have the courage to think about what Hotch will say.

"It's Reid, isn't it?" JJ's voice sounds from the other side of the room suddenly. But Leighton can't look at her, because JJ's right, she's here because she's been taking care of Reid. Noble, yes, but not entirely justified. "Leighton, it's not your job to take care of him alone," JJ says, and walks over to her. "You can ask for our help. Garcia tells me you're practically living there."

Leighton knows JJ's exaggerating, because everyone's been to see Reid this past month, but Leighton's been there the most. "I might have fallen asleep on the couch a few times." She shrugs. "I just hate the thought of him being on his own all the time." Reid has his books, but that doesn't mean he can't use the company now and then.

JJ thinks about how Leighton is saying one thing, but really means another. _She loves Reid_, JJ realizes, but why can't she just say that instead? "He's lucky to have you," JJ says. "But he's not alone. And neither are you."

* * *

><p><strong>(3)<strong>

**date:** December 25th, 2011

Leighton takes Reid with her to Chesapeake to celebrate Christmas day with her family. She doesn't get a whole lot of time off, but every few years she gets the chance to spend the holidays with the people she cares most about. And Reid is one of them too. It takes her a lot of convincing, because Reid doesn't want to get in the way or be a bother to anyone, but Leighton can be stubborn when she needs to be.

Reid can't say he's ever had a holiday like this. Whenever he'd gotten the time off in the past he'd gone to see his mom, and spend one or two days at the hospital with her. Somehow he never imagined he'd be able to experience this, an actual Christmas meal, surrounded by a happy and tight-knit family. It vaguely reminds him of Thanksgiving dinners when he was very young, and his dad was still around. They're few and far in between, but some of the memories are still there. None of the memories were anything compared to this.

The B&B is vacant because of the heavy snowfall, and because most people are at home, so they had the whole place to themselves. Everyone was there: Leighton's parents, her brother and his girlfriend Daphne, Leighton's sister Natalie, her husband Detective Hardwick, and their four children. Most of the day passes by noisy, but he doesn't mind. His headaches haven't returned, and he finds himself enjoying seeing Leighton with her family. It only reaffirms how important family is to her.

Joshua, Leighton's oldest nephew, walks over to Reid at the dinner table and pulls at his sleeve to get his attention. "Are you really a doctor?" Joshua asks, and tries very hard to disguise that he really only asks the question to get a closer look at the scar in Reid's hair. His hair has started to grow back, but anyone could still see.

"Yes," Reid answers. "Yes, I am."

Joshua narrows his eyes. "You don't look like a doctor."

"I'm not a doctor of medicine?" Reid says without looking at Joshua. He's not sure how to do this, talk to children—Henry's only three, so he's not in any danger of getting asked serious questions there just yet. "But I do have PhDs in mathematics, chemistry and engineering."

"He also has BAs in psychology, sociology and philosophy," Leighton adds, just to tease Joshua. Unlike Reid, she does know why Joshua has approached him. It's not very polite to talk to guests like this, but Reid doesn't realize, and _boys will be boys_ in any case.

Joshua scrunches his nose. "I don't know what that means," he says.

Joe laughs. "It means he's smarter than your aunt Leigh," he says, earning him a scowl from Leighton. Joshua giggles at Leighton's expense and then runs to join his brothers and sister in front of the television in the living room.

"Thank you for that, brother-in-law." Leighton shakes her head, but smiles.

There's a joyful laughter around the dinner table, and to his own surprise, Reid finds himself smiling as well. He's not used to this kind of thing outside of the team, but he likes the idea of being a part of Leighton's life like this. If family matters this much to her, he's grateful he gets to be part of this as well.

After dinner, Leighton joins her nephews in front of the television, and it allows her to rest her ankle up on the coffee table. Reid goes outside for some fresh air, but when he steps out on the front porch, he's not the only one out there. Natalie quickly turns, but relaxes once she sees Reid. "Sorry, thought you were my husband," she says, and stubs out the cigarette she'd been smoking. Reid realizes he just caught her doing something no one is supposed to know. It's why he doesn't say anything. "I hear you got my sister to stop smoking."

"I uh—" Reid frowns, puts his hands in his pockets, and takes a few steps closer to Natalie. It was almost three years ago that he was out in the yard with Leighton, telling her that smoking would only harm her in the long run. "I told her it would make her PTSD worse."

Natalie chuckles. "Sounds like Leigh," she says. Reid doesn't like the accusation she puts in her words. He knows Natalie and Leighton don't always get along, but it seems to him that Natalie has the wrong idea about her sister. "Anything to get back to the job."

_Does she know Leighton at all?_ Reid wonders, because it doesn't sound at all like the Leighton he met here three years ago—that Leighton was scared, and _scarred_ and let her insecurities get the best of her. And even now, with those insecurities overcome, he can't rhyme the image he has of Leighton with what Natalie seems to be suggesting. "I was under the impression she'd considered leaving the BAU," he says, as careful as he can.

"Leighton?" Natalie's eyes go wide. "Never in her life. That job is her life."

Reid frowns to himself. "That's not true," he says carefully. "_You_ are her life. This family. Your sons, and—and your daughter," Reid corrects, and he immediately sees Natalie reacting to it. It's subtle, but Natalie's shoulders slump slightly, almost like she gives up the pretense—maybe she does know Leighton the way that he does, she just can't accept that law enforcement is a career Leighton chose willingly, for herself, rather than some misguided attempt at making her family proud.

"Is that why she brought you here?" Natalie suddenly asks, most likely to avoid talking about anything else. Reid smiles to himself, because he recognizes Leighton in Natalie, and the thought that Leighton wants him to be part of her family, of her _life_, is an extremely pleasant one. "She's lucky to have you."

Reid looks up at Natalie, so much like Leighton, and something occurs to him only then. It's strange, but it's the first time he realizes he's not the only one getting something out of his friendship with Leighton—it's a stupid thought, because of course Leighton sticks around for a reason, cares about him for the same reason. But he still feels he should make sure Natalie knows how much Leighton means to him. "I'm lucky to have _her_."

* * *

><p><strong>(4)<strong>

**date:** January 10th, 2012

They can all see it, that's why he's so surprised that Leighton tries to hide it in the first place. After what happened at the warehouse it was hard for anyone to ignore the pressure Leighton was putting herself under. Rossi knows that if she keeps this up she could get herself seriously injured, more gravely than a cracked ankle.

"You okay?" Rossi asks, and sees Seaver focusing on Leighton as well as soon as the question leaves his mouth. Just like him, he knows Ashley will be gauging Leighton's reaction and make her own conclusions. What she's doing isn't healthy, they all know that, even though Reid doesn't have anyone else to take care of him, and the doctors didn't want him to be alone too often in the weeks following his discharge from the hospital.

"Hmm?" Leighton looks up at him, and frowns. There's a headache pulsing right behind her right eye; she knows it's from exhaustion. She shakes her head. "Just tired." Leighton shrugs. "Nothing a little coffee won't fix." But she doubts her answer is fooling anyone. Everyone has been surprisingly lenient with her this past month, and she knows there has to be more to it than just her injury. Are they secretly happy she's the one taking care of Reid? Is their silence proof of their guilt over not doing more themselves?

"How's Reid?" Rossi asks.

"You know," Leighton shrugs, "catching up on every book they published in the weeks he was out."

Rossi smiles, and manages to picture it vividly, Reid surrounded by books, finishing one after the other. He looks at Ashley and they share a knowing glance—Leighton's avoiding the issue because she already knows she's pushing her boundaries. Rossi supposes it's one step in the right direction, but Leighton should take some time for herself.

Hotch and JJ join them in the conference room, Garcia and Morgan not far behind. JJ presents the case as usual, and Leighton tries to listen, but the painful throb behind her eye is pretty bad, and coffee isn't helping at all. The real remedy would be to relax and catch up on some sleep.

"We leave in an hour," Hotch finishes, and everyone leaves the conference room. It takes Leighton longer, she has her crutches to maneuver too, and she'd refused any previous attempts of the others to help her out. She manages to get up, Hotch still in the room with her, and hikes towards the door.

"Leighton," Hotch says, and is standing next to her in the doorway before she manages to turn. She can't read Hotch's expression, there's a hint of concern, but tinged with determination. "How are you holding up?" he asks, clear concern now sounding through in his voice. "Garcia said—"

Leighton sighs. "Garcia needs to learn the distinction between a private conversation and something I want everyone to know," she says, but doesn't mean to come across so angry. Garcia had told JJ she'd fallen asleep on Reid's couch a few times, and now this. They were supposed to be private conversations between her and Garcia, but now that she thinks about it, Leighton imagines there's a whole lot of her words that get funneled to JJ and Morgan afterwards.

"She's just worried about you," Hotch says. Leighton does know that, but she can't help but feel a little betrayed. Still, after everything that's happened she supposes she deserves that. "If you need to take some time off—"

Her first instinct is to say no, because admitting to weakness isn't in her nature, nor is it in anyone else's on the team. But Leighton checks herself. She's been so tired, and with her injured ankle it's even harder to get around. Maybe a few days off is exactly what she needs to sort through some things. "Maybe a few days?" she asks, but is still unsure of how it sounds.

"No problem." Hotch nods. "Start now."

"But—" Leighton protests.

"We can handle this one without you, Leighton," Hotch says strongly. She knows that she's of little use to the team if she's not sharp, but this—she knows that taking her off this case is Hotch's punishment, Hotch coming down on her for screwing up, for being _reckless_, for not talking to him and not taking time off sooner. "Get some rest. That's an order."

* * *

><p><strong>(5)<strong>

**date:** January 13th, 2012

One of the crutches hits him in the shin hard. "Watch it!" Reid almost squeals and helps Leighton turn, her back to the sofa. Her left arm slides off one crutch, but it leaves her standing on her bad leg.

"Spence," Leighton says, and winces when she catches herself off balance. Reid grabs her arm to keep her standing.

"Just turn the—" Reid says, but the other crutch slips from under Leighton's arm and hits the coffee table, tumbling to the ground. "Sit down," he says, commands almost, but it sounds unnatural coming from him. His hands try to force her down on the sofa. Leighton starts laughing. "Why are you—" Reid frowns, but feels a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Why are you laughing?" He laughs himself.

He takes Leighton's hands in his and lowers her down on the sofa. "Thanks," Leighton says. Reid straightens the pillow behind her back, and pulls another out of the way. He takes hold of her ankle gently, lifts it up and places the pillow under it. "I'm supposed to be the one taking care of you, you know," Leighton says, settling back in the couch while Reid gets the tea in the kitchen.

"Yeah, well, that was before you did this to yourself," Reid calls from the kitchen.

Leighton doesn't like to hear him say it, accuse her of causing her own injury, even though Leighton knows he's right. Reid had been upset with her when he first found out, because he knew why she got hurt, but it hadn't stopped her from coming by and taking care of him. He'd tried to get her to go home, but he knows his reluctance to be alone keeps her coming back every time. There's really no winning.

Reid emerges from the kitchen with two cups of tea, and he sits down next to Leighton on the sofa. It's silent for a moment, a comfortable silence.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Reid asks, looking at Leighton sideways.

"What's there to talk about?" Leighton shrugs. "I exhausted myself and I made a mistake." She looks up at Reid. "Sounds like me, doesn't it?" she asks. She's not being too serious, because there's little she can change right now, but Reid doesn't seem to pick up on it.

"It's my fault," he says softly, casting down his eyes.

"Yeah. It is," Leighton answers, making Reid look up again. What is she trying to say? Not that she blames him, otherwise she wouldn't be here. He's sure he's missing something. "If I didn't care for you so much, I wouldn't have a cracked ankle," Leighton adds, hoping Reid realizes she's joking. She'd probably make the same mistake all over again if she could go back in time.

Reid smiles, but cast down his eyes shyly. "That's not what I meant," he says.

"I know," Leighton says softly, shifts on the couch, and puts her head down on his shoulder. It's a forward gesture, but one she has to make. Everything that's happened the past two months has only reaffirmed her feelings for Reid, and they're too strong to deny any longer. "But I prefer blaming you."

Reid laughs, but doesn't move an inch. He doesn't want to lose this moment, and frankly he doesn't want to lose Leighton's blame—however strange it might sound. He thinks they finally made it, the proverbial middle, and there isn't anything he'll allow to come between them again.

* * *

><p><strong>if you can, please let me know what you think!<strong>


	16. Our Time Has Come

**author's notes:** it seems that every time i send my reviewers emails with "i'll update in the next few days" i do, in fact, mean "within" the day. thanks a MILLION to all my reviewers, welcome to all new readers, you make this story a joy to write for me! super special banana thanks to my bestie **Inwenalas** for helping me out!

**characters:** Leighton Tanner (OC), Reid, Garcia, Hotch, JJ, Rossi, Seaver, Morgan, Gene Campbell (OC), Margo Campbell (OC)

**setting:** AU from 6x24_ - Supply & Demand_ onward_  
><em>

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

><p><strong>SCARS REMIND US WHERE WE'VE BEEN;;<strong>

****chapter fifteen  
><strong>**

* * *

><p><strong>date:<strong> February 2nd, 2012

**(1)**

He's not anxious. A healthy sort of anxious if anything, because it's been two months and a half since he did any sort of real work. He might not have liked the mandatory rest, but he's enjoyed having Leighton around so much. Now that he's going back to work, _they're_ going back to work together, he's afraid that might change. He doesn't want to go back to what it was before. But something tells him that's something they'll both be working on.

Reid picks Leighton up at home; she's been off the crutches for a few days, but her ankle is still in a brace to limit the pressure on the joint. For the past few weeks Morgan had always picked her up, because the brace prevented her from driving herself, but Reid had suggested he could pick her up today.

Just as they're about to push through the glass doors to the bullpen, Leighton stops him and looks up at him. "I'm really sorry about this," she says, but there's something in her eyes that tells him she's not really.

He frowns. "About what?" he asks, because what could be going on already that Leighton feels the need to apologize for?

Leighton pushes past him through the doors, and he follows her, still confused, until he lays eyes on the scene in front of him. "Surprise!" the majority of his team members shout. He grins shyly, but still shoots Leighton a warning scowl.

"Welcome back, Reid!" Garcia walks over to him, and pulls him in for a tight hug. Everyone's there, except for Hotch, but JJ assures him Hotch got called away by the Director on an urgent matter, or he wouldn't have missed it.

Garcia passes a box of homemade cookies around while everyone catches up with Reid, and they tell him about all the things they missed about him. Leighton wants to tell everyone not to stroke his ego too much, but she stops herself. She sits at her desk, while the others have congregated around an empty desk further away. It's a conscious decision on her part to take some distance from Reid while the others welcome him back.

Hotch texts JJ half an hour later, and there's a collective sigh that spreads through the room. A text from Hotch usually means a case. But Reid's glad they have a case—he doesn't like all this attention to begin with, and after spending so much time away he's ready to get back to work.

By the time they make it into the conference room – Seaver helping Leighton up the steps – Hotch and JJ have already set up the presentation, and the case file has already been uploaded to everyone's tablets.

"Welcome back," Hotch says to Reid when he sits down next to him.

Reid grins. "Thanks."

There are three pictures up on the monitor, three murder victims that have seemingly been severely tortured. "Tony Dinapoli, Christopher Juarez and Victor Gagliano," JJ says, "All found dead within a week of each other. All tortured."

"Any connection?" Rossi asks.

"They're all members of the Chicago Outfit," JJ answers.

Everyone looks at Reid for an explanation. Reid straightens in his chair. "It's a crime syndicate running from Chicago, Illinois," he says. "It dates back as early as 1910 as part of the American Mafia."

Morgan shakes his head, and laughs. "Welcome back, Dr Reid." Reid frowns to himself, looking over his file again, but doesn't say anything else.

"We'll be working with Agents Gene and Margo Campbell," Hotch says. If no one had understood the urgency before they sure do now. They're not often called into other Bureau investigations, but this was a very delicate matter. "They've been running an undercover operation for the past two years now."

"Has the operation been compromised?" Morgan asks.

"That's what we're going to find out," Hotch answers, and falls silent for a few seconds. Everyone's still studying the crime scene photos, so it passes by unnoticed. "Reid, when we land I want you to go straight to the morgue, one of the agents will meet you there. Leighton and JJ, you go to HQ." JJ and Leighton nod—Leighton knows he's placing her at HQ to give her ankle the rest it still needs. "The rest of us will head to the crime scenes. Wheels up in thirty minutes."

Hotch gets up and dismisses the others.

"They have the same last names," Seaver says, having picked up on the joined name from the moment Hotch had spoken it. She hasn't heard that before. "Are they related?" she asks, looking at Rossi for answers.

"Worse," Rossi says, and gets up. "They're married," he jokes, and leaves the others in the room shaking their heads, but amused.

Morgan and Seaver get up from their seats as well, grabbing their tablets, while Reid lends a hand to help Leighton up from her chair. "Is that even allowed?" Leighton frowns, intent on grabbing her own tablet, but Reid snatches it off the table before she gets the chance. She looks up at him, and smiles.

"There are no clear rules about dating colleagues, Tanner," Morgan answers, waiting for her at the door. He's surprised she's never heard of Gene and Margo, they're pretty well known for their undercover operations. "Not even within the same team. The brass doesn't like it, but you can't stop people falling in love."

Seaver and Morgan lead the way out of the door, but Morgan halts at the top of the steps to help Leighton get down them.

"You're a real romantic, aren't you?" Leighton asks.

Morgan smiles. "I'm a lover, not a fighter."

Seaver and Leighton exchange bemused glances, and break out laughing soon after. Morgan does have an idealized idea of love—in a way they probably all do, but not all of them has experienced it as such. Reid and Morgan stop for coffee, and Leighton snatches Reid's paper file and her tablet back from him—he can't possibly juggle all of that _and_ a cup of coffee.

Leighton follows Seaver to the bullpen, Reid and Morgan staying behind for coffee. "Is everything okay between you and Tanner?" Morgan asks once Leighton is well out of hearing range.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't it be?" Reid frowns.

"She seems—distant." Morgan shrugs. "Thought she'd be a little more considerate, that's all." He pours himself some coffee, then passes the pot over to Reid.

"She's the only one not treating me like I'm made of glass," Reid answers, focusing his attention on his mug.

"Reid, you had brain surgery," Morgan says, taken aback by Reid defending Leighton so fiercely. He doesn't mind, far from it, but it's a normal question to ask. Leighton had kept her distance on purpose, everyone could tell. "That's not something you just snap back from."

"I've been cleared for the field." Reid looks up at him. Is there anything in his behavior to suggest he's not ready? "I feel perfectly fine."

"No more headaches then."

"None," Reid answers, adding sugar to his coffee. "The scar's healed, my hair's even grown back. I'm the exact same Reid I've always been." His mouth quirks, telling Morgan they've reached the end of that argument, but Reid's not done talking. "And Leighton, she—" At this point Reid feels he has to defend Leighton, because yes, she had taken some distance, but that was more for the rest of the team than either of their sakes. "–she came to see me every day at the hospital and almost every day when I was home. And when she was out of town she called."

Morgan raises an eyebrow. _Okay_, he gets the picture, Leighton is Reid's baby girl, and he knows he'd be defending Garcia the same way if the roles were reversed. "So, I guess you guys are okay, then," Morgan says, and turns his back on Reid, ready to end this talk and head to his office to enjoy one cup of coffee before they have to head out.

"We—" Reid starts, making Morgan turn again. When he lays eyes on Reid, Reid casts down his eyes, and Morgan sees him smiling to himself before looking back up to meet his eye again. "We're more than okay." Reid nods, a smile still pulling at the corners of his mouth.

_Way to go, kid_, Morgan thinks to himself, but doesn't say it. Leighton's still only a few desks away and he doesn't want her catching on. "Alright, pretty boy," Morgan says.

Reid frowns, and shakes his head in amusement.

"What was that about?" Leighton asks when Reid sits down behind his desk. She'd been watching Morgan and Reid exchange words, and it had looked like a very interesting conversation.

"That?" Reid asks, looking up at her. "Nothing." He shrugs, and tries to start on his paperwork as inconspicuous as he can, even though he feels Leighton's eyes on him.

Leighton looks at Seaver, who simply shrugs at her. She hadn't been able to decipher anything about Morgan and Reid's talk either, though she suspects it was about Leighton.

All three of them fall silent, and begin reviewing the case so they can start profiling on the plane.

* * *

><p><strong>(2)<strong>

Gene Campbell is a short stout man with broad shoulders. From what Reid knows about Margo Campbell they make a very strange couple. Almost everyone in the Bureau knows her under her maiden name, SSA Margo Keller. She's known for her tenacity and drive, and over the years it's earned her a few rather negative nicknames. To her peers it didn't matter, she got the job done and she always remained on task. Gene Campbell on the other hand never had many higher ambitions other than doing a good job.

"You think you might have a mole?" Reid asks, waiting for the coroner to roll out one of the bodies for closer examination.

"Quite frankly, I'm hoping it's some nut job with a personal vendetta who just happened to pick out these mobsters," SSA Gene Campbell says, hands in his pockets.

The coroner opens one of the fridges lining the walls of the morgue, and pulls out a tray. "Thanks," Reid says, and sets off examining the body. Victor Gagliano's body is covered in cuts and bruises, inflicted by a numerous amount of different tools: a blowtorch, a knife, two of his teeth had been ripped clean out. This doesn't look like an act of retribution.

"What do you think?" SSA Campbell asks after several minutes have passed.

"Difficult to say," Reid answers, snapping of the sterile blue gloves. "They were clearly tortured." Agent Campbell is staring at him, puzzled. "Generally speaking there are two types of torture?" Reid says. "Functional torture to extract information or to punish the victim. It's impersonal and controlled."

"What's the other one?"

"Sadistic torture, used to fulfill some kind of emotional need, and often paired with some form of sexual assault," Reid answers. "None of that seems present on these bodies."

"So, functional?" Agent Campbell asks.

"Yeah."

Agent Campbell rubs his eyes wearily. "Well, that's about the worst news you could have given me," he says, and looks back up at Reid, who's frowning. "It rules out that this guy is just accidentally killing off mobsters."

"Doesn't rule out a vigilante, or someone with a personal vendetta." If this was really a vigilante it's possible that he was working his way up, or trying to gather the courage to go after more heavy-hitters. It seems unlikely though.

"It also doesn't rule out someone trying to jeopardize our op."

Reid nods to himself. Agent Campbell leads him out of the morgue, and they're walking to his car when Reid catches eye of his wedding ring. Technically SSA Campbell, both of them, are his superiors, since they're in charge of their own unit, but there are questions on the tip of his tongue that have been stirring since he found out Gene and Margo were married. It's proof that it can work, him and Leighton.

In the end, he asks against his better judgment, but his curiosity gets the best of him. "Can I ask you something?" Reid asks.

"Shoot."

"How'd you meet Agent Keller?"

"Ten years ago when she came to the Atlanta field office," Gene answers without hesitation. Maybe he's not the first one to ask, Reid figures, why else would he be so forthcoming? "She outranked me at the time, but man, that woman." Reid sees Agent Campbell smile to himself, then shake his head. And then he seems to snap out of his reverie. "Took me weeks to muster up the courage to talk to her."

Reid thinks about how little it took him to talk to Leighton, even enter her personal space when he examined the tremor in her hand. It was the most spontaneous he'd ever been with anyone.

"But it was worth it," Agent Campbell finishes, and halts in front of his car. "What about you?"

"Me? I'm not—" Reid stutters, the question taking him by surprise. But Agent Campbell stares at him hard, a clear grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. Is it so clear now, Reid thinks, how he feels about Leighton—Agent Campbell hasn't even met Leighton yet. Reid swallows, and stares at his feet. "There is someone," he says, and looks up again. His answer doesn't seem to please Agent Campbell. "It's complicated," Reid adds.

"How complicated can it be?" Agent Campbell asks. "You either love her, or you don't."

Reid thinks about it. Of course he loves Leighton, he's known that for a long time, but has just never admitted it to himself. But that doesn't make their predicament any less complicated. They're still two members of the same team. And then there's last time looming over them. "It's just that we've tried before and—we gave up." Reid frowns to himself. Why _had_ they given up? Deep down he knows the answers—they were both in different places in their lives, still too involved in their own problems to pay proper attention to anyone else. But he thinks they're past that.

Agent Campbell nods. "Margo did that once," he says.

Now there's another response Reid hadn't expected. He's not used to colleagues talking about their private lives so openly. "What happened?" Reid asks, because at this point he thinks he can ask a lot and still get an answer.

"I got shot," Agent Campbell answers. Reid knows his own injury contributed to him and Leighton growing closer together again. Maybe it made them both realize how fragile life is, even if they'd both learned that separately before. But that was before they knew each other. "Let's say it put some things in perspective for the both of us." And then he looks at Reid as if he's about to divulge the wisdom of the ages. "It's hard work, I won't lie, but it's worth it."

* * *

><p><strong>(3)<strong>

After Reid calls Leighton with his preliminary findings, Leighton briefs Margo and JJ, and JJ disappears to make sure Hotch gets the same information. In an undercover operation like this, time can be of the essence. It turns out the three murdered men were working with the Campbells in return for immunity once they testified against their bosses. Gene and Margo were attempting to build a RICO case, so they could snare some of the major crime bosses in the city all at once.

Leighton's heard of Margo before, though she knows her better as Margo _Keller_, the woman who singlehandedly restructured the Atlanta field office to accommodate more women in the field, and even out their numbers. She's not known for being nice, but she's politically correct. Leighton can't help but respect her. She seems to be everything a female FBI agent would strive for: competent, just, smart, and not to mention she has a life outside of the job.

"Are you going to ask me what you want to ask me, or just keep staring at me?" Margo asks suddenly, still penning down things in her small black notebook. They'd been working in silence for almost twenty minutes now, waiting for the rest of the team to join them again, and Leighton had found her eyes drawn away from her files several times.

"I'm sorry," Leighton says, and doesn't look up. She knows what's wrong, she understand what's gnawing at her from the inside. There are so many things she wants to ask Margo. "It's really none of my business." Leighton shakes her head, and half-shrugs.

"But it's clearly got you distracted." Margo sits back in her chair. "Spit it out."

Leighton takes a deep breath. How exactly can she ask this of a superior officer? It's not polite, or appropriate, least of all when they should be working the case. "Your husband—" Leighton starts, but falls short of any other words. Maybe she's not even sure what she's asking of Margo. "This job—"

Margo's eyes go wide, not in surprise, but perhaps impressed that Leighton manages to ask it at all. Something tells Leighton Margo knows exactly why she's asking this of her. Margo smiles softly, but visibly relaxes. "It's not easy, I can tell you that," she answers. "There were moments I had my doubts. But you can't fight your feelings."

Leighton casts down her eyes; she doesn't know what to make of that. She's already realized she can't fight her feelings for Reid, the past few months were enough proof of that, but what about the rules?

"Look," Margo continues, almost as if she's in tune with Leighton's thoughts. "I'm not sure if this'll help, but dating a coworker breaks down to this: you see the same things in the field and then you go home together." Leighton thinks that's about as succinct as it gets. "Try not to take the job with you."

Leighton doesn't release Margo's eyes. "You mean be two different people," she says.

"If that's what it takes." Margo nods. "Out there I'm the partner he needs me to be. I've got his back and I know he's got mine." That'll never be a problem for her and Reid, Leighton thinks, despite not being with him, she trusts him completely. Even if that trust doesn't come with full disclosure of their pasts. "At home I'm the partner I want to be," Margo adds.

Leighton thinks about it. She and Reid aren't the same people at home as they are at work, so that won't be a particular issue. Sometimes she feels she can only truly be herself when she's alone with Reid. She knows that some part of Reid feels the same way.

* * *

><p><strong>(4)<strong>

Leighton and Reid don't sit together on the plane. Both their minds are too preoccupied with the conversation they had with Gene and Margo to give the other the attention they deserve. Morgan's lounged back on the couch with his earphones, JJ is asleep next to Reid, and Seaver is sleeping across from JJ. He feels like he's the only one still awake until he hears Rossi's voice behind him, and he knows Leighton's still up too.

"I know what you're thinking," Rossi says, looking at Leighton. She'd been staring out of the window for the entire length of the flight, and it's clear her mind is elsewhere. He wonders if it has to do with Gene and Margo, after all, it's no secret that Reid and her care for each other. Could it be something more?

Leighton looks at him, and there's a moment's silence, but then she smiles. "I wasn't aware mind-reading was one your profiling skills, Agent Rossi," she says. Hotch sits on the other side of the small isle, looking through case files, or maybe already working on his report. It's not clear if he's following the conversation, but knowing Hotch, he's probably all too aware.

"You're thinking Gene and Margo had the right idea," Rossi says. Leighton looks down at her hands. "Getting married, having kids, and they manage to make it work against all the odds. More importantly, willing to fight the odds." He wonders how much credence Leighton will put to his words, he's been married three times after all, but that wasn't because he never loved any of his wives. "If there's someone in your life that makes you feel like that, you go for it, kiddo."

There's another moment where Leighton just looks at him, almost as if she's trying to determine if he's being serious. "And the rules?" Leighton asks tentatively, after countless of moments have passed.

"Damn the rules." Rossi shakes his head. "It's easy to lose track of the good things when you do this job, so why not be with someone who _knows_? Who experiences the same things you do?"

Leighton leans her head back against her seat and lets Rossi's words sink in. She knows where he's coming from; after running into his first wife during a case last week it was clear Rossi had let the love of his life get away from him. Maybe he's telling her not to make the same mistake. Maybe he's telling her to take a chance and act on her feelings for Reid. And Hotch's silence tells her that twice over; he'd already made it clear he wouldn't mind them dating when she joined the team. He just wanted to be kept in the loop.

* * *

><p><strong>(5)<strong>

"You didn't have to do this, you know," Leighton says, followed closely by Reid. When he dropped her off at home, he'd insisted on coming up with her. There's no elevator in her building, and with her ankle still uncooperative at times he wanted to make sure she got upstairs in one piece. That, and he desperately wants to ask her something.

"Sure, I did," Reid answers. "Do you know the number of accidental deaths involving stairs every year? Over a thousand in the US alone, the numbers are staggering."

Leighton opens the door to her apartment, dropping her go-bag just inside the door. "Better safe than sorry then," she says, and returns her attention to Reid. His hands are in his pockets, and he's avoiding her eyes.

"Do you—do you think Rossi meant—what he said on the plane?" he stutters, because he's not sure if it was a conversation he was meant to hear. But given the content of the conversation, he thinks that Rossi would have told him the exact same thing.

It dawns on Leighton she wasn't thinking about anyone else overhearing her conversation with Rossi. She'd assumed most of them were asleep, because it had been so quiet. "You heard that?" she asks, eyes wide, but a corner of her mouth defiantly slides up into a smile.

"Y—Yeah," Reid answers, smiling as well.

"I uh— Yeah." Leighton swallows hard, looking away. "I think he meant it." She nods, and only then looks back up at Reid, because something strange has settled in her stomach. She recognizes it all too well, she's felt it before, pulling at her from the inside. Maybe her body already knows where this is headed.

"And the rules?" Reid asks tentatively, well aware that his body is drawing closer to Leighton's. Maybe deep down he wants her to tell him to screw the rules, to forget about them because all that really matters is how they feel about each other. The absence of Leighton in his life, a very private and particular kind of absence, has never tugged at him harder.

"The rules…" Leighton muses, and casts down her eyes. That's what it always boils down to, the rules, the imaginary and authoritative guidelines proposed by the higher-ups, the bosses, but not _their_ bosses. If Hotch and Rossi truly wanted to keep her and Reid apart they would have said something, or Hotch wouldn't have put her on the team in the first place.

Endless moments pass between them.

Leighton feels Reid lean closer to her; it shocks her—almost as much as it shocks him. But the shock subsides quickly, because there's no room for it.

Reid leans in, careful at first, as if still in doubt of his own actions, afraid that Leighton might not want the same thing, but Leighton reaches up for him. Their lips meet in a shared intake of breath—it's a slow kiss, exploratory, but then quickly deepens when Reid's hands move to cup Leighton's face, one of Leighton's hands around his wrist and the other at his waist for support.

Leighton can feel her chest warming up, her heart beating faster as her lips move against Reid's. She doesn't care about the rules, they'll fight the odds together and come out victorious because their relationship was never normal, or could never be defined as such. They'll fight the odds and win, because they need each other to brighten their own dark worlds.

Leighton takes a small step closer, wanting to be even closer to Reid, but her injured ankle protests. She winces and releases Reid's lips in the process. She chuckles, and so does Reid, her forehead resting against his lips. They're both breathing hard.

"Come inside and make me some tea?" Leighton asks, eyes wide as she looks up at him.

"Sure," Reid answers.**  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>if you can, please let me know what you think!<strong>

**additional author's notes: **Gene and Margo Campbell are loosely based on real-life FBI couple Gene and Margo Bennett, whose story unfortunately had a much more tragic ending.


	17. Let's Get Serious Like Crazy

**author's notes:** no doubt the hardest chapter i have written so far, this one is slightly lighter before hitting the heavier stuff again. the last part was inspired by the wonderful weather Belgium's been having these past weeks. THANK YOU to everyone reading and reviewing this story, it's a joy to see how many alerts this story has gained, and hearing from you guys is one of the highlights of my week! special thank you to my beta and co-conspirator **Inwenalas**.

**characters:** Reid/Leighton (OC), Morgan, Garcia, JJ, Hotch, Seaver, Rossi, Sylvia Burke (OC)

**setting:** AU from 6x24_ - Supply & Demand_ onward_  
><em>

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

><p><strong>SCARS REMIND US WHERE WE'VE BEEN;;<strong>

****chapter sixteen  
><strong>**

* * *

><p><strong>(1)<strong>

**date:** February 10th, 2012

Morgan is still working in his office when Leighton joins him. "Hey, are you coming?" she asks, but quickly notes he's made no effort to start packing up. Morgan looks up, staring at her puzzled. "_Bar_. Drinks. _Fun_," Leighton explains.

Morgan sighs, and closes his eyes. "I forgot," he says, shaking his head. "I'm waiting for a phone call."

"Work-related?" Leighton asks. When Morgan looks up at her he can see it in her eyes; Leighton knows exactly what she's asking. She's not pretending, so he doesn't pretend to be clueless.

"I'm going to catch this son of a bitch, Leighton," Morgan says.

"Even if it's the last thing you do?" Leighton asks in confusion. He knows where that can lead. He saw her burn out when she pushed herself to work the job _and_ take care of Reid. "Don't push yourself too hard, Morgan," Leighton says, and Morgan knows she's holding back because they've built a friendship based on an understanding of each other's anger. "Emily wouldn't want you to."

"I know," Morgan amends. "I won't."

"Okay," Leighton says, and leaves Morgan to his business. There's little she can say to him that he can't throw back in her face, not that he would, but Leighton thinks it's safer to just caution him for the time being. If it ever looks like he's taking on too much, she'll be more forcible.

"Where's Morgan?" Reid asks when Leighton joins him at the elevators.

Leighton looks at him briefly but averts her eyes. "He's not coming," she answers fast. "He—wants to catch up on some paper work." Leighton realizes all too well it sounds like a lie right off the bat, but it's not a complete lie, she argues to herself. Still, when she meets Reid's eyes she can tell he's uncertain about her answer.

His eyes narrow in suspicion. "Are you—?"

"I'm not lying," Leighton interrupts immediately. "I'm—omitting the truth," she adds, hoping to smooth over the lie, or at least get Reid to realize that she's keeping Morgan's secrets for a good reason. Though the more she thinks about it, the less she's convinced that keeping silent is the right course of action.

They get on the elevator in silence.

"And I'm starting to sound like you," Leighton jokes.

Reid knows she's trying to downplay the seriousness of Morgan's secret, tries to pass it off as something more trivial, but Reid knows better. He's known for a while now. "He's still looking for Doyle," Reid says, voice small and frail, because remembering Emily in any capacity hurts. It _still _hurts.

Leighton looks up at him, and feels a pang of guilt hit her. She never meant to keep this from Reid. It wasn't some big conspiracy between her and Morgan that no one should know about, just something she'd kept quiet about at his request. To be honest, she'd hoped Morgan would've already disclosed it himself. That, or just given up once he realized that finding Doyle would never bring Emily back. "Did he—tell you?" Leighton asks, knowing that by asking she's confirming any suspicions Reid might have had.

"No," Reid answers. "But it's not hard to figure out."

No, Leighton thinks, it's not hard to figure out at all, which makes her think that the others have probably realized this as well. Maybe they allow Morgan the transgression because somewhere deep down they're all hoping to bring Doyle to justice. Maybe they're all still looking for closure.

They don't say anything else about it as they exit the elevator and get into Reid's car. He drives them to the bar where Garcia and JJ are waiting for them.

"I'll get us some drinks," Reid says once they make it inside. Leighton nods, and walks over to where Garcia is sitting. JJ is nowhere in sight; Leighton figures she's in the restroom.

"Where's my beautiful man?" Garcia asks, looking past Leighton expectantly, but Morgan doesn't join them.

"Paper work," Leighton says, using the same convenient lie she'd told Reid, except Garcia seems to accept this immediately. She does, however, pout, but quickly changes to a happier demeanor.

"So," Garcia says, looking at Leighton intently.

"So?" Leighton asks, taking off her coat as she sits down at the table.

"You and Reid."

Leighton brushes her hair back behind her ear. "There's no me and Reid." Leighton shrugs, but only then realizes she just gave herself away. Right, Leighton thinks, that _hair thing_ she does. Garcia beams at her. "I don't want to talk about it," Leighton answers fast.

Garia giggles. "Your silence speaks volumes, mon amie," she says, watching Reid walk over to their table with two drinks in hand. She'd already decided neither Reid nor Leighton would get off easy this time; they've been avoiding this topic for entirely too long. "So, Reid, you and Leighton."

Reid takes off his coat as well and sits down. "What about me and Leighton?" he asks, frowning.

"Aha!" Garcia exclaims, pointing an accusing finger at Reid. She can't believe what she's hearing. Have Leighton and Reid finally decided to talk about their relationship? "So you're not denying it."

"Denying what?" Reid asks, glancing at Leighton briefly, who is doing her utter best to suppress a smile.

"That the two of you are, you know—" Garcia says. Now she just knows they're messing with her. She supposes that's only fair after all the times she's pestered them with questions. JJ joins them at the table again. "JJ, help me out here," Garcia says, looking for much needed support. "They're still in denial."

JJ looks at both Reid and Leighton, but only smiles at them. Unlike Garcia, she doesn't need confirmation; she already knows. She doesn't understand how Garcia can miss it, but she also realizes that Garcia likes to get information first hand.

"We're not in denial," Leighton answers. "We're just not ready to read about it on your blog."

Garcia opens her mouth to say something, but stops herself. Leighton just confirmed what she'd been suspecting, that she and Reid are dating. But it seems Leighton knows that she siphoned information to Morgan and JJ when Leighton was injured. "I am both insulted and touched by that," Garcia says, making everyone around the table laugh.

* * *

><p><strong>(2)<strong>

**date:** February 29th, 2012

As far as relationships go, Leighton hasn't had a great many to brag about. Her first kiss was with a boy from school, in a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven. She was twelve years old, and she's pretty sure said boy never spoke to her again.

When she was sixteen she met Shaun; tall, confident, funny, and not to mention athletic. He wasn't your typical jock, because he had a fair amount of brains, and his grade-point average mattered more to him than playing football. They dated on and off for two years. They slept together for the first and only time when they were both eighteen.

The only real relationship she ever had was in college. She'd met Eric during one of her lectures, and they got talking. It didn't take very long for them to start dating. They were together for three years, until she graduated from the Academy and she was forced to move to DC so she could join the BAU. It had been one of the most difficult decisions in her life, but she couldn't turn the offer down.

"Eighteen?" Reid asks, settling back in Leighton's couch. "You were eighteen?" He frowns to himself, and takes a deep breath. Maybe talking about this wasn't the best idea, but it was Leighton who'd brought it up.

"It's not that young," Leighton says, and shrugs. Losing her virginity was never as important to her as it was to her friends, but she loved Shaun, or so she believed, so it seemed like the thing to do. It was awkward and painful but that's what she'd been told by her friends and her sister. "Why? How old were you?" Leighton asks, because now she's curious.

"Twenty-one," Reid answers solemnly, staring out in front of him. It wasn't his fondest memory; during his FBI training he'd really believed this time it would be different, that this time he would be surrounded by his peers and other intellectuals, but even at the Academy he was the youngest student. Most cadets made fun of him when he was running the obstacle course, or was required to do anything else physical. In the classroom they resented him his knowledge. It wasn't until being recruited by Gideon that he truly felt he found his place in the world.

"So you were at the Academy," Leighton says matter-of-factly, making it sounds like talking about her personal life is routine. But Reid figures it has to be easier to talk about it because Leighton actually _had_ a personal life before meeting him. "What was her name?"

"Amy Deckers," Reid answers, but shrugs. "It was just the one time," he says, and tries very hard not to remember all the details. But with his eidetic memory that isn't always easy. He knew the ins and outs of sex from textbooks, television, and that one _very_ awkward conversation he once had with his mother. None of that had prepared him for the actual experience. Amy, just like almost everyone else at the Academy, was several years older than him, and generally known for her casual flings with other cadets. He was just one in a long line of conquests.

"And that's—everything?" Leighton asks carefully, staring at Reid, eyes wide. Reid looks at her, quirks his mouth, and nods. "You're making me look bad," Leighton jokes, hoping to lighten the mood. Part of her wishes she hadn't asked at all, but she felt like this was something they should probably talk about.

Reid frowns to himself. He's not sure if he should tell Leighton about every single female encounter he's had, mostly because he's sure Leighton hasn't told him everything either. There were other girls he went out with, other girls he'd kissed, but none of that had led to anything serious. "Well, there was Lila."

"Lila?"

"Lila Archer," Reid says. His history with women was short and easily summarized, but Lila was one of the first he'd had real feelings for. Sort of. Obviously those feelings weren't strong enough for them to start a relationship. "We met on a case."

"Not Lila Archer, _the actress_?" Leighton asks, but when Reid doesn't move, her eyes go wide. Her lips form around the words 'oh my God' but she doesn't utter them. "You _dated_ Lila Archer?" Leighton asks, her words drenched in surprise and incredulity.

"Does that make you look bad too?" Reid looks at her carefully. He doesn't know why, but he kind of likes this little hint of jealousy on Leighton's part.

"I—" Leighton stutters, and frowns to herself. "I don't—really know." Leighton smiles. Does Reid dating a blonde _bombshell_ reflect badly on her? Leighton decides not to give it too much thought.

* * *

><p><strong>(3)<strong>

**date:** March 19th, 2012

"Hotch, you got a minute?" Leighton asks, lingering in the doorway of his office. She'd intended to knock, but forgotten somewhere in between mentally preparing for the coming conversation and reaching Hotch's office door.

"Sure," Hotch says. "Come in." Leighton closes the door behind her; she wants some privacy if she's going to tell Hotch this. "What's this about?" Hotch asks, noting how Leighton clenches and unclenches her hands by her sides. She's clearly nervous, but why?

Leighton sits down in a chair in front of Hotch's desk, and searches for the right words. "Spence—" she starts, but quickly checks herself. "_Reid_ and I are seeing each other again," she blurts out, wondering if she should phrase if differently, or be more specific. Hotch already knew they saw each other outside of work as friends.

Hotch nods, even though he's certain his features betray some of his surprise. "I appreciate you telling me," he says. And that's _all_ he says.

Leighton unclenches her hands, resting them on top of her knees. "Okay," she says, and gets up. She stops herself at the door, not sure what to do with herself. _That's it?_ she wonders, Hotch had meant when he said he just wanted to know?

"Leighton?" Hotch asks.

Leighton turns again. "I just want you to know this won't affect our job at all," she says, suddenly more nervous now than she was before telling Hotch. Maybe she's afraid that he'll be paying more attention to her and Reid. But then, if JJ already knew, and Garcia now knows, it's not a big leap to assume that Hotch and the others already knew as well. And none of them had been treating her any differently.

"I know that, Leighton," Hotch says. What she and Reid have is something unique, something that doesn't come by every day, and he'd be the last person to take that away from them, or tell them to give it up because protocol suggests otherwise. As long as their relationship doesn't affect the work, and there's no reason to presume that it will or ever has, he'll just be happy for them, and hope for the best.

Leighton makes her way back to her desk, knees shaking. "Everything okay?" Seaver asks, watching Leighton sit down at her desk, wiping her hands on her pants.

Leighton only nods in response. It's only when she's sitting down at her desk that she realizes her heart is beating like crazy.

"You ready to go?" Reid asks behind her. Right, she was supposed to be getting ready for their date. Leighton had seen it as the perfect opportunity to go talk to Hotch. Now there was just the matter of telling Reid that she'd told Hotch about them.

"Depends," Leighton says. "Where are you taking me?" she asks, getting up from behind her desk and grabbing her bag. Reid had told her this morning that he'd be taking her out, but hadn't specified any location. Apparently no special dress code was required and they'd be going straight there after work. She'd asked him about it today every chance she got.

Reid grins. "You can ask me that all you want, I'm not going to tell you."

"You two have fun," Seaver says, staring after them as Reid and Leighton make their way across the bullpen.

Leighton turns her head to look at Seaver, but Ashley's already gone back to her paperwork. "Does _she_ know where we're going?" Leighton asks, turning her head back to look at Reid. "That's not fair," she complains, but that only elicits more smiling from Reid.

As it turns out, Reid takes her to a funfair. She's been to plenty of fairs in her lifetime, most of them when she was a kid, but Leighton thinks this isn't completely atypical for Reid. When their destination came closer, she chose to forgive him for not telling her anything about it. Now, as they're making their way through the crowd, booths on either side of them, Leighton sees it as the opportune moment to tell Reid about her conversation with Hotch. Maybe deep down she's hoping that the sugar from the cotton candy has lulled Reid into a false sense of security.

"You told Hotch about us?" Reid asks, scratching the back of his head.

"Yeah," Leighton says. "He asked me to."

"Don't you think that's a little soon?" Reid asks, Leighton's eyes going wide in question. "I mean—No, that didn't—" he stutters, attempting to correct himself. "That didn't come out right." He frowns.

Luckily, Leighton only smiles up at him, rather than get offended by his poor choice in words. "You think I should have waiting until—until when, exactly?" Leighton asks, and they halt in the middle of a tiny square, surrounded on all sides by a variety of food booths, sideshows and side stalls with games.

"I don't know." Reid shakes his head. He's not really sure how he feels about this. It's normal for Hotch to want to know, but now every time that he's in the same room as Hotch, and Leighton's there, he'll only wonder what's going through Hotch's mind. Not that he imagines their boss disapproves of them. "This is just—It's strange," Reid says, looking down at her.

Leighton grabs hold of his tie, just like she did three years ago, when they first kissed. "We're just two people taking a chance on each other," Leighton says, moving closer to him. Reid feels his breathing deepen. "Again," Leighton adds, smiling. Leighton pulls at his tie, forcing him to lean down, and kisses him. There are people swarming all around them, and Reid knows he should feel self-conscious, _would_ feel self-conscious, if he wasn't so distracted by Leighton's lips on his. He likes this, _a lot_.

"Hey, pretty lady," a vendor calls out to the two of them. "Care to try your luck?" he shouts, gesturing towards the stuffed animals dangling over his head. The wall behind him is decorated with bullseyes, the counter in front of him lined with air rifles.

Leighton looks at Reid, who only stares at her uncertainly. "You want me to—" he asks curiously.

"That's what boyfriends do." Leighton shrugs, and grins.

Reid's eyes narrow, but tell Leighton he's amused by this turn of events. "Alright," he says, and walks over to the stand. He pays for one turn, lining the rifle with his shoulder. "But I'm pretty sure you're a better shot than I am."

* * *

><p><strong>(4)<strong>

**date:** April 7th, 2012

Sometimes it feels like they're making up for lost time.

Granted, after three years it seemed they had a lot of catching up to do, but this is making her head spin. Or rather, turning her stomach into knots. It starts somewhere different every time. Sometimes they'll be at the door, hers or his, or in the kitchen even, after washing the dishes. One of them will make the other smile, and they'd look at each other, and just—be drawn to one another. Reid leans in because he's the taller one, and Leighton reaches up on tiptoe, but their lips find each other more easily every time.

Then they proceed to the sofa, settle down, and make out like two teenagers without a curfew.

Until one night Leighton's had enough. She doesn't know if Reid feels it to, this burning somewhere just below the waist, but one night she takes a chance, and instead of pulling him towards the couch, she guides him to the bedroom. Much to her relief, Reid follows her without protesting.

Reid stares at her, his eyes dark in the dimly lit room. "Are you sure?" he asks, but there's little caution to his tone. He wants this just as much as she does.

"Yes, I am," Leighton says, pulls his tie from his sweater vest, and kisses him again. The tie drops to the floor moments later.

Reid starts unbuttoning her shirt while Leighton pulls up his sweater vest and somewhere in the tangle of arms something's not quite right, and they're both laughing before they realize. Reid stops what he's doing, and lets Leighton pull the vest over his head, but when she starts at the buttons on _his_ shirt they find themselves in the same predicament. So Reid relents and lets Leighton finish on his shirt, her fingers skillfully undoing all the buttons, and then he kisses her again, both hands on her face, tongue pushing past her teeth. Leighton's hands tangle in his hair.

With his shirt now open, Reid goes back to Leighton's button-down, but she releases his lips with a smack once it's all the way open. She rests her forehead against his lips, breathing hard, her eyes closed.

Reid takes a deep breath, senses attacked by Leighton's perfume, trying to decide on exactly what to do. He understands what's made her freeze, he gets why suddenly she's more self-conscious, but Leighton's the one who started this. Maybe she just needs a little push. Without moving his lips away from her forehead, he pulls her shirt out of the way, the tips of his fingers finding her skin.

It doesn't take him long to find it, his left thumb finds the tattered patch of skin running from her hip all the way up to her ribs. He still doesn't move, but waits for Leighton's permission to move forward.

Leighton shivers and looks up at him, but doesn't tense up or make a move to stop him. "It's okay," she whispers, placing a hand on Reid's cheek. He kisses her again and feels her warm hands against his own skin now, the feeling new and refreshing, and anything but uncomfortable. It's curious to him how his self-consciousness goes out the door, but he doesn't spend any time thinking about that now.

Leighton smooths his shirt off his shoulders and shrugs out of her own, lips still locked with his.

They fall to the bed in another tangle of arms, and legs too this time.

It's not perfect, far from it, but it's fun and relaxing and something they'll work hard to perfect.

* * *

><p><strong>(5)<strong>

**date:** May 12th, 2012

"Hey, JJ," Reid pops his head into JJ's office. JJ looks up from the multitude of files littering her desk. "Do you happen to have any band-aids?" Reid asks. JJ frowns at him. "It's for Leighton?" Reid says, tapping his fingers on the doorframe.

JJ doesn't have to ask him why; Leighton had been biting her nails all day and eventually something had to give – everyone knew it wouldn't be Leighton. No one had said anything about it; in fact everyone had skillfully avoided talking about the topic that was no doubt occupying Leighton's mind today. "Sure," JJ says, and rummages through the first aid kit in her desk until she finds a strip of band-aids. "Have you—talked to her at all?" JJ asks, handing Reid the band-aids.

Reid's already back in the door opening when he catches JJ's question. He knows that as Leighton's _boyfriend_ that task falls to him now – their previous failures in communication had all but disappeared and there's little he doesn't tell Leighton. But there are topics they avoid completely. "Won't make any difference," Reid says, laughing it off uncomfortably. He understands. There are things he never talks about either. "Mumford is the one thing she never talks about."

"It doesn't take a profiler to know that's not healthy," JJ says.

Reid nods solemnly and quirks his mouth. That phone call Leighton's been avoiding all day isn't healthy, but not talking to him, or anyone else, no, that's just typically Leighton.

"Here." Reid hands Leighton the band-aids once he's made his way back to the bullpen.

Leighton looks up from her work in surprise. When she sees the band-aids in Reid's outstretched hand she realizes she hasn't been as stealthy as she'd imagined. She's always had trouble controlling her nervous ticks. "Thanks," Leighton says.

"Coffee?" Reid asks, making Leighton stare up at him again. There's something different about him today, Leighton catches herself thinking. Reid's going out of his way to be supportive, and even though it's not the strangest occurrence, today it touches her more than usual. "Tea," he corrects, grinning crookedly.

Leighton laughs, but doesn't say anything. She stares after Reid as he makes his way across the bullpen. It's curious to her how he hasn't brought up what today means to her, what she must be thinking about, but at the same time she's incredibly grateful. Maybe Reid knows she doesn't want to go through the pain of not being able to talk to him about it. Maybe he's sparing himself the disappointment. She wishes she could talk to him about Mumford, but she knows she can't. Just like he can't talk to her about certain things; Tobias Hankel, his drug addiction, even on occasion his mother. Reid's silence today is so incredibly telling of how well he knows her.

"Are you okay, kid?" Rossi's voice dooms up from behind her. Leighton turns her chair around and sees him standing next to her. "You could have done this from home, you know," he says, gesturing at the paper work covering her desk.

"So could everyone else," Leighton answers, and knows she sounds offensive. She doesn't want any special treatment because today just happens to be difficult for her.

"Today's not an anniversary for everyone else," Rossi says. Leighton laughs, and shakes her head. Out of all the people on the team, of course Rossi had to be the one to bring it up. Four years ago today, a psychopathic serial killer almost killed her, scarring her, possibly for life. "What?" Rossi asks.

Leighton leans back in her chair. "Everyone's been conveniently talking around it all day."

"Even Reid?"

They both turn their head towards Reid. "No," Leighton says, casting down her eyes. She knows Reid's the only one she'd permit to bring it up. "He's been clever enough not to say anything at all," Leighton says, and looks up at Rossi. Just like she'd expected Rossi doesn't move or apologize. Leighton sighs and stands up. "Today means nothing to me. It's in the past, and I'd like to keep it that way."

"Is that why you're not picking up your phone?" Rossi asks. Leighton feels her heart drop to her stomach. Rossi's nailed it. She really does hate getting profiled. "That past you're talking about is nothing to be afraid of," Rossi says. "It can't hurt you again."

Her phone rings again, and Leighton stares down at it, watching it vibrate itself into small circles on top of her desk. She feels Rossi leaving her. But she doesn't answer the call.

Later that night, a thunderclap wakes Leighton up. It's one in the morning. She glances to her left, but Reid is still fast asleep. When she looks at her alarm clock again, she can just discern her cellphone's outlines on the bedside table. She lies back and closes her eyes, attempting to beckon sleep closer again, but it keeps escaping her. Today's conversation with Rossi echoes through her thoughts. He was right, she's well aware the past can't hurt her, but she knows the memories can. _Mumford_ can.

A lightning strike illuminates the room, making Leighton sit up. She sighs, and tosses the sheets back. She gets up noiselessly, careful not to make the floorboards creak when she makes her way into the living room, even though the thunder's roar drowns out her footsteps.

She dials the number slowly, but has it memorized perfectly. The phone rings only once before she hears the person on the other end pick up. "Sylvia," Leighton says. "It's me."

"I didn't think you'd return my call," Sylvia says, a reverie in her voice that pains Leighton more than she cares to admit. Sylvia sees her as her hero, the young ambitious FBI agent that went against orders yet saved her. Leighton knows she doesn't deserve that.

"I was working a case," Leighton lies, nervously biting a fingernail. Sylvia has often asked her how she can keep doing what she does after what happened to her, how she can stand to be around all the ugliness and pain and not constantly be reminded. Leighton has never told her that catching guys like Mumford helps with the healing, that this is the difference she wanted to make in the world before ever getting hurt. She can't give it up, even though she'd considered it.

"How're the kids?" Leighton asks, to avoid the other questions, the _how are_ _you_ _doing_, how are you coping, how've you been holding up today. Somehow _I'm fine_ never seems to cut it with anyone, but she knows it's her colleagues' support that kept her going today.

"Growing up too fast," Sylvia answers, to avoid the exact same questions.

They talk for half an hour, avoiding even the mention of Mumford's name, because even though it's been four years for both of them, and it's an anniversary of sorts, there's no place for him between them. He's in their lives, whether they want it or not, and he's the reason they're bound together, but they've created a friendship to facilitate the absence of them. And maybe, in a strange and backwards way, talking to each other about trivial things means they don't have to talk to others about Mumford.

After Leighton hangs up the phone, she contemplates the rain for a while, watching it tap steadily against the windows, leaving behind long streaks of water running down the glass. Back home, they used to get huge lightning storms, the kind that illuminated the entire house and shook it to its foundations. Whenever the thunder roared so loud it scared her, she'd get up from her own bed and wandered over to her sister's room, where she was protected by her sister's arms until morning came around.

Now, another thunderclap makes her jump, and she hears her bed creak in the next room. Maybe this one did wake Reid up. She makes her way back to the bedroom, only just catching Reid searching for her in the bed.

"What's wrong?" he asks, voice filled with sleep, his short hair sticking up every which way.

"Nothing," Leighton answers, sliding under the covers next to him. "Go back to sleep," she says, and turns her back to him. The bed creaks again, Reid scooting closer to her, and he wraps an arm around her torso. She doesn't know if her body language betrays her unsettlement or if Reid heard her talk to Sylvia, but she feels safer with his arms around her. She feels protected.

* * *

><p><strong>and for everyone being patient with me: <span>re<span>view = instant preview**


	18. She's Haunted By Her Memories

**author's notes:** sorry for the delay in update! this storyline had to be split up in a few parts due to length. this is a storyline that i've been dying to write from the start, so i attempted to give it the respect it needed. i hope you all enjoy, and super special thank you to everyone enjoying this story and taking the time to let me know what you think. this storyline is dedicated to my beta/bestie **Inwenalas** for loving this before even reading it!

**characters:** Reid/Leighton (OC), Nick Mumford (OC), Hotch, Garcia, Morgan, Seaver, Rossi, Detective Matt Roberts (OC), mention of JJ, Strauss and Sylvia Burke (OC)

**warning: scenes in italics are set in 2008**

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

><p><strong>SCARS REMIND US WHERE WE'VE BEEN;;<strong>

****chapter seventeen  
><strong>**

* * *

><p><strong>date:<strong> May 14th, 2012

**(1)**

The sheets curl around her legs when she turns in the bed, struggling hard against the hold the cotton has on her. Leighton groans in protest, but doesn't wake up.

_"Nick Mumford?" Leighton asks. Such a strange city, she catches herself thinking, it makes her feel trapped somehow, all the highs and lows, such strange geography, now forcing her to stare up at the tall dark-haired man in front of her. She holds up her credentials. "Agent Tanner, FBI. We're going door-to-door—"_

_"You're here because of those missing women," Nick Mumford says, his voice balancing somewhere between calm and an eerie curiosity. It's nothing new, just human curiosity that often gets the best of people. She's heard it in more than one voice today. Nick Mumford towers over her, and is strangely imposing despite being a fairly slim man. _

_"_Murdered_ women, Mr Mumford," Leighton corrects, and holds up the picture of the last woman to go missing. Four in total by now, all discarded like trash near San Francisco Bay. "Sylvia Burke was last seen in a store around the corner." _

_"Oh my." Nick Mumford crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head. His eyes are dark, black almost, but Leighton knows that's a trick the sun is playing on her. "That's awful," he says. "I'm afraid I've never seen her before."_

_"You're sure?" Leighton asks, because something about Nick Mumford – the plaque by his door tells her he's a professional photographer – unsettles her. _

_"Yes." He nods while looking at the picture again. "Quite sure."_

_"Thank you for your time, Mr Mumford."_

_"I hope you find her before it's too late," he calls after her. Leighton turns and looks at him, but doesn't say another word. There's something that lands at the pit of her stomach when she looks at Nick Mumford—for a man that claims these crimes to be awful his voice doesn't sound all that sincere. _

Leighton trashes back and forth in the bed, but can't seem to break free from the nightmare. Her skin flushes hot, hair sticking to her forehead, sweat soaking into the pillow.

_"How do you take your tea?" Nick Mumford calls from the kitchen, his voice sounding hollow. The two-story house is almost clinically decorated; Leighton doesn't have another word for it. Everything is assigned its place, and there isn't a thing out of place. The UnSub they're looking for is most likely this organized as well. _

_"Uhm—" Leighton's voice shakes. "One sugar, please?" she asks, even though it wasn't meant to sound like a question. She's so damn nervous, she knows she's going against direct orders by being here, but she can't help it. There's something fishy about this guy, she can feel it. It oozes from his smug smiles, his dark eyes. _

_There's a small cupboard next to the couch in the living room, one of the drawers slightly opened, almost as if someone had tried to hide something in a hurry. Leighton glances back over her shoulder, but hears Nick Mumford rearranging things in the kitchen. She approaches the cupboard slowly, careful her shoes don't make any noise on the tiled floors. The small drawer creaks when she pulls it open further. She looks back one more time, but she's still alone in the living room._

_She knows she shouldn't be doing this—even if Mumford was a viable suspect she needs a warrant to go through his things. But Leighton's no longer thinking straight, it's pure curiosity guiding her now, urging her to investigate, telling her to open the box inside the drawer. There are all kinds of worthless trinkets inside— and old photograph of a young boy, a rosary, a broken watch. And a wedding band. _

_Leighton picks the ring up from the box, eyes narrowing on the engraving inside the ring._

_Her heart skips a beat. One of the names inside the ring is Sylvia Burke. _

_Sylvia Burke._

_The missing woman._

_Before she knows what's going on the hairs at the back of her neck stand up, and a shiver runs up her spine. She hears herself release a breath, instantly aware that there's someone behind her. On instinct she reaches for her sidearm, but a hand grabs her left wrist before she can pull it from its holster. "No," Leighton chokes out, and manages to turn, only to feel a sharp pressure cutting into her just below her ribcage. _

When Leighton jolts upright in bed she doesn't scream. She holds her breath for countless of seconds, until she's sure she's alone and safe in her apartment, and no one's hiding in the shadows. The room spins before her eyes for a while, even though the curtains allow little light inside. Leighton releases a breath, and pulls her knees up to her chest, hugging them tightly. Her forehead rests against her knees until her heart rate has slowed down to a reasonable pace again.

Instead of settling back in bed, Leighton gets up. She knows that she'd spend the next few hours getting back to sleep in vain anyway. She takes a quick shower, massaging her shoulders to loosen the muscles, and as always, avoids looking at the scar running down her abdomen. It's so very often that she wishes she could just forget, ignore it, but even now, after four years, hardly a day goes by that she's not aware of it.

There's a text from Hotch at six a.m. telling her to come in for a new case. She's been up for hours, and for some reason the text makes her feel better, knowing that for the next half hour or so she'll be working towards some goal, focusing on anything but her nightmares.

It's not too long after that she hears Reid's signature knocks on her front door. They've made a habit out of carpooling together on semi-normal workdays. If they were to show up together in the middle of the night, Morgan would never let them hear the end of it.

"Hey," Reid says, flashing Leighton a crooked grin.

"Hi." Leighton smiles up at him, and reaches for him on tiptoe. Reid leans in, pressing his lips to Leighton's in a brief kiss.

"You almost ready?" Reid asks, staring after Leighton as she makes her way to her bedroom.

"Yeah," she answers without turning around. "Just let me grab some fresh clothes."

Reid takes a few tentative steps inside the living room, taking note of the cup of tea resting on top of the coffee table. "How many of these have you had?" he asks when Leighton joins him in the living room again. Normally he wouldn't ask, but there are three teabags on a dish next to the cup and he knows Leighton drinks tea in the morning to wake up.

Leighton shrugs, and avoids looking at him. "I've been up for a while," she answers. When Reid remains silent she finally looks up at him. There's unspoken guilt in her eyes, as if she knows better than to give him some silly excuse. Of course he'd already figured out she'd been up for a while. As for why, he knows that now too. Leighton casts down her eyes, "I didn't sleep well, that's all," she says.

Reid understands. She's had the nightmares again. He doesn't say anything, even though he wants to say he wishes she'd just tell him these things, rather than make him deduce it in a roundabout way. He knows they're past this, but Mumford is – and might always be – the only exception.

Leighton picks up on Reid's subconscious finger pointing. "Please, don't worry about me?" she asks, her eyes begging him. She wraps her arms around his neck, and Reid leans down slightly. "It's nothing I haven't dealt with before," Leighton adds, hoping to convince Reid that she knows how to handle this. "I'll deal with it again."

He's silent for another few moments, because Leighton really shouldn't know how to get away with this so easily. But he can't help himself. "Okay," he says, even though he's sure he doesn't come over entirely convinced. No, Reid thinks, he shouldn't let her get away with this, he'll still worry despite Leighton's expressed wishes, but this isn't a trauma he needs to bring back verbally. It seems to be doing that all on its own.

Leighton smiles and pulls him closer, pressing another kiss to his lips. "We should get going," Leighton says when she breaks away, and grabs her go-bag.

They leave the apartment in silence. Leighton enjoys their moments of silence as much as she loves their talks and intimacy. Sometimes, in a very strange way, the silence between them can be more telling than anything else. Right now, the silence is comfortable, they move in unison, and there's no need for words. Other times, like just minutes ago, the silence is tenuous, but somehow they've learned to translate that into something more productive.

"Oh, by the way," Leighton says as she opens the car door, tossing her go-bag on the backseat. "Natalie invited us for dinner this weekend. You wanna go?" Leighton asks, staring at Reid over the roof of his car.

"Yeah," Reid says. "Sounds great."

He gets in the car, as does Leighton. She looks at him carefully, and almost decides against asking him the next question, but if she can't ask him this, then what can she ask? "I thought if we had the time, maybe we could go see your mom too?" Leighton asks, even though that scenario is very unlikely. It's doubtful they'll be making the weekend at Natalie's if work gets in the way, but they can always do another weekend.

Reid doesn't look at her. "Leigh—" he starts, but hesitates. The thought of Leighton and his mom getting along is an extremely pleasant one, and visiting his mom more often isn't an altogether horrible idea, but his mom is his obligation. Not Leighton's. "You don't have to—"

"I _want_ to," Leighton stresses.

When Reid finally looks at her, Leighton is smiling. He grins, and nods, starting the car. "Sure," he says, and puts the car in gear.

By the time they arrive at work most of the team has already made it into the conference room; Hotch is still making his way over, going over some last minute notes in his files.

"Morning, sunshines," Garcia sings when Leighton and Reid walk in together. No one else so much as looks up from their tablets; they've all gotten used to Reid and Leighton arriving together.

"Hey, PG," Leighton says, sitting down at the table between Reid and Seaver.

"Where's JJ?" Reid asks, the first to notice that their Media Liaison isn't present.

"Strauss has her at the Academy, hoping to inspire future Media Liaisons," Hotch answers, sitting down at the round mahogany table. "We'll have to handle this one without her," Hotch says, but doesn't act at all pleased about it; Strauss shouldn't be able to boss around his team members like this, not when they work better as a team. A team of which JJ is a vital part. "Garcia."

"Yes, sir," Garcia says, and starts the Powerpoint presentation. "Attention, intrepid BAU adventurers, San Francisco begs your attention."

_Great_, Leighton thinks, as if the nightmares plaguing her weren't bad enough already, now they'll only be getting worse. Back to San Francisco might as well mean back to the scene of the crime. Leighton can feel Reid's eyes on her, but knows not to react. If she reacts, the others might catch on. And that's the last thing she needs.

"Three victims so far, all stabbed once through the heart and then had their throats slashed," Garcia says, and three separate crime scene photos appear on the HDTV flat screen.

"That's a significant amount of overkill," Morgan says.

"He tapes their eyes open," Leighton says, eyes going wide once the close-up shots roll by on her tablet. "That's never a good sign."

"San Francisco PD is in a frenzy," Hotch says, and consciously forces himself not to look at Leighton. Asking her to go along on this case isn't completely uncalled for, it's been four years and if she can't handle this she has little reason to be in the field. But after what happened with Seaver in North Dakota, he has to make sure. "After the Ripper another serial killer is the last thing they need. We leave as soon as everyone's ready."

Everyone gets up from the table, exiting through one of the two doors.

"Leighton," Hotch calls after Leighton, and sees her turning on her heels immediately. Reid and Morgan glance back, but notice quickly that Hotch wants to talk to Leighton in private. They don't have to ask themselves why. "How's your ankle?" Hotch asks once Leighton's walked over.

Leighton knows Hotch asks one thing while really meaning something else, but is leading up to it by asking her about her ankle. So she doesn't question it, and just answers. "The doctor's cleared me for active field duty," she says. "I've completed the mandatory physical therapy. Save for getting it caught in a door again, it should hold up fine."

"Good," Hotch says, brow set in a deep frown. He knows he has to ask this, even at the risk of setting Leighton off. He needs to know she won't get distracted by her past experiences in San Francisco. "Look, I know you've got a lot of history where we're going," Hotch says. "If you're not up for this—"

Leighton takes a deep breath. She appreciates Hotch thinking of her feelings in this situation, even if it's just for the team's sake. But Leighton knows that's not giving Hotch enough credit; he genuinely cares for all of them. "The Ripper's locked away," Leighton says. "I want to help catch this guy as well."

Hotch nods. "Very well."

* * *

><p><strong>(2)<strong>

"He clearly has a type," Morgan says. Leighton is sitting across from him on the plane, Reid next to her, and they both notice Leighton's distracted. Maybe he'll ask her about it later, just to be safe, but right now he'll let her have some privacy. No doubt the others have picked up on it as well. "Young brunettes, single, no pets, no security systems."

"Apart from the neighbors noticing anything out of the ordinary, he had his way with these women without interruption," Reid says.

"What about the eyes?" Hotch asks, looking up at his team. He notices how Leighton has said little to nothing since they boarded the jet, but he's not worried just yet. She's probably mustering up the courage to face her past.

"By taping their eyes open he forces them to look at him," Seaver answers. "It's part of the fantasy. Without it, he can't get off."

"No sexual assault though," Leighton finally speaks up. She doesn't want to give Hotch or Reid any more reason for concern. Yes, she's going back to San Francisco, where something horrible happened to her, something that still haunts her, but she'd overcome her PTSD, her anxiety, and she'd come out a stronger person. "The UnSub could be impotent."

"Dave, you, Leighton and I will go to SFPD to set everything up and talk to the detective in charge," Hotch says, the two members of his team giving him a sturdy nod. "Morgan, you take Seaver and Reid to look over the crime scenes." The other three members of his team nod as well.

While everyone goes back to reviewing the case file, Hotch makes his way to the rear of the plane for some much needed coffee. Rossi joins him there a few moments later. "You sure she's up for this?" Rossi asks, staring back at Leighton over his shoulder.

"I don't think it's anything we need to worry about," Hotch answers, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "She's strong. I think catching this UnSub in a team environment will only help her in the long run."

"Good point," Rossi answers. He's not too worried about Leighton; she's already proven that she can overcome her problems despite of meeting with adversity. It won't be easy for her, that's for sure, but right now he's more worried about Hotch. "What about you, Aaron?" he asks. Hotch looks up at him. "You've been stressed," Rossi explains. He knows the anniversary of Emily's death is still looming over all of them, and for some reason it has affected Hotch more than the others. Rossi knows their team leader didn't consult anyone after Emily died. Could it be that it's only now taking its toll?

Hotch shrugs and shakes his head. "No more than usual," he says, but knows he's not fooling Rossi. It's one thing to hide this from the rest of the team, but Rossi knows the hardships of the job better than anyone. When March Seventh had come around it had been a cold stab to the heart; an entire year had gone by and Emily was still gone. Deep down he knows he made the right decision; he protected Emily and kept her secret, indirectly protecting his team as well. If they all knew Emily was still alive, what was to stop Doyle from coming after them? He knows that's a worst-case scenario, but he had to consider it. It was his responsibility as Emily's friend. It was his responsibility as team leader.

"If you wanna talk, you know where to find me," Rossi adds.

Hotch looks at Rossi again. JJ and him had been carrying this burden for so long now, it would be a joy to be able to share it with someone. But he knows he won't. He _can't_. "Thanks," he still answers, because Rossi has earned that much.

When they've landed, Hotch's cellphone rings. "Garcia?" he asks.

"San Francisco PD just reported a new victim," Garcia says. "I texted you the address."

"Thanks," Hotch says, and hangs up. He turns to the rest of the team, now all out on the tarmac with their go-bags in hand. "There's been another victim," he calls out. "We'll head to the crime scene first."

The three Chevy Tahoes the San Francisco field office brought over are parked right next to the tarmac. Leighton gets in a car with Hotch, Seaver with Rossi, and Morgan and Reid take the third one. It's not an attempt on Leighton's part to avoid Reid, even though she hates the thought of him being worried about her, but right now she needs some quiet to prepare herself. The flight had given her some opportunity to prepare, but with everyone in such close quarters it was difficult to get any privacy. Until checking into the hotel later tonight, this is the most privacy she'll get.

"Have you been back since what happened?" Hotch asks, not really intent on making a conversation out of it, but maybe getting Leighton to open up a little isn't the worst idea.

"Just for the trial two years ago," Leighton answers, staring out of the window. Seeing San Francisco fly by behind the car window doesn't affect her the way she thought it would. For some reason, what happened to her here seems like ages ago, a painful memory, but nothing too traumatic.

That is until she lays eyes on their destination.

"Is this—Is this the address?" Leighton stutters, studying the two-story house, the dark-blue front door, the shuttered windows. She knows this house. She's been _inside_ this house.

Hotch looks at Leighton sideways, at the sheer panic in her eyes, and grabs for his PDA; he'd only checked the address back at the airport, but he hadn't register a name. "Victim's name is Sylvia B—" Hotch stops himself before he's said the name. He knows that name. He's _spoken_ that name before.

"Oh my God," Leighton breathes, unbuckles her seatbelt and is out of the car before Hotch manages to stop her.

The others have by now made it out of the cars as well, and all four of them see Leighton rush towards the house. Hotch curses himself mentally; he should have checked the name instead of going solely on the address. Maybe Rossi is right. Maybe he is too stressed.

"Who lives here?" Seaver asks, raising a hand to her forehead to block out the sun and get a good look at the house. It's not like the other crime scenes; this is a calm neighborhood where most houses have alarm systems. And there are plenty of dogs barking around here. This isn't the UnSub's usual haunt.

"Sylvia Burke," Hotch answers, closing the car door behind him.

"Isn't that—?" Morgan asks, but hesitates. He's heard that name before.

Panic strikes Reid at the same time Morgan realizes exactly what has happened. "Oh no," Reid says.

Morgan takes off after Leighton without thinking, even though Hotch was just about to order him after her.

Leighton's legs feel like lead as she ascends the stairs. She'd looked around downstairs first, but all the crime scene analysts were headed upstairs. So she'd followed them. Her hands clutch the handrail tight until she reaches the landing. A wall to her right offers her further support. "Tanner!" she hears Morgan call after her, but her body is beckoning her closer to the first bedroom door, the master bedroom. Sylvia's bedroom.

_Where are the children_, Leighton catches herself thinking, _where is Sylvia's husband?_ But she can't come up with any answers, her head is reeling because she knows what she's about to find in that room. She halts once she's inside the doorway, and catches sight of the body on the bed. She already knows what to expect; Sylvia's throat slashed, one stab wound to the heart. But instead she closes her eyes, because in one quick glance she's seen enough; Sylvia's eyes wide open, mouth agape, blood pooling around her neck, covering whatever scars had previously disfigured her skin.

And the message written in blood on the wall.

_How do you like my gifts?_

Leighton's breath catches in her throat.

Gifts.

_Gifts_.

GIFTS.

The exact same phrasing Mumford once used to describe his victims' scars.

_The blade pierces through her skin like a knife through warm butter; Leighton tenses against the cut but only feels her skin tightening around the blade, causing more damaged. She screams out in agony._

_"Don't fight it," a deep thick voice says, Mumford's, and she feels herself leaning against a warm body. "It'll only make it worse."_

_She can't speak, even though she tries, but the pain, the white-hot shriek in her abdomen overwhelms any other attempt. And then Mumford draws the knife down, making a deep gashing cut all the way down to her hip; she swears she can feel a dull thud when the blade meets with bone. _

_Something warm runs down her leg._

_Leighton releases a single breath when Mumford lets go of her, and falls to her knees. Gravity pulls the rest of her body to the ground too, and she lies there, bleeding._

_Down in the basement below the floor, Leighton can hear Sylvia Burke screaming._

"Are you okay, ma'am?" someone in the room asks her, forcing her eyes back open, but the room starts spinning and Leighton fails to locate the voice. She feels bile rising in her throat, she gets light-headed, and she turns around in the hallway. The ground disappears from underneath her feet, she trips over her own foot, but a strong set of arms catches her around the waist before she falls. Morgan.

"Easy," Morgan says. "Easy." He doesn't let go of her. "Just breathe," he says, and leads her back down the stairs.

Leighton doesn't notice how she passes the rest of the team, who are all making their way up to the bedroom, safe for Reid, who takes one of her arms as well as soon as she's downstairs. Morgan and Reid walk Leighton outside, where she throws up in the grass.

"Who's Sylvia Burke?" Seaver asks, ascending the stairs alongside Rossi. She realizes all too well she's the only one who hasn't reached any conclusion yet, apart from the fact that Leighton knows the victim.

"The only one of the Ripper's victims that survived," Rossi answers. "Leighton saved her life."

"Oh my God," Seaver breathes, and suddenly wishes she'd stayed downstairs to help comfort Leighton. She's never seen Leighton this vulnerable before, and judging by how Rossi and Hotch had reacted to the situation she guesses no one really has. Maybe that's why Hotch had ordered the rest of them upstairs, to give Leighton her privacy, maybe her _dignity_ even. She can't imagine what it would be like to be in Leighton's shoes right now. Then again, she knows what it's like to relive a past trauma, to be more mature yet thrust into the same situation. It's paralyzing.

An SFPD detective emerges from the bedroom when they reach the landing. "You the FBI?" the young man asks, but quickly notices their guns and badges. "Matt Roberts."

"SSA Hotchner." Hotch shakes the detective's hand. "These are Agents Rossi and Seaver." He motions at his two colleagues. Hotch is fairly certain that Morgan and Reid will stay downstairs with Leighton. "I apologize for Agent Tanner; she has a personal connection to the victim."

"Tanner?" Detective Roberts asks. "I thought I recognized her," he says, meeting with Hotch's questioning stare. "I was a uniform four years ago," the detective explains. In fact, he was one of the uniforms out canvassing with Leighton the first time she met Nick Mumford. Her hair was shorter back then, and she still had some youthful innocence about her. But that disappeared as soon as she became one of Mumford's victims.

Hotch nods; he understands. He imagines they'll be running into other people who know Leighton. For all the trouble she supposedly caused the Bureau – if you believe the bureaucrats that is – SFPD had always only been grateful for what she did, the sacrifice she made, and the killer she picked out. They never used terms as lucky, reckless, young or stupid. Maybe the Bureau should have adopted that attitude.

Rossi makes his way into the master bedroom, followed closely by Seaver and Hotch.

Detective Roberts shakes his head when he looks at Sylvia's motionless body again. "Damn shame if you ask me," he says.

"They all are," Rossi says, hands in his pockets.

"So what do you think?" the detective asks.

"He left us a message this time," Rossi says. "Assuming that it's for us." From the moment he'd realized exactly who the victim was, an eerie feeling had made its way to the back of his mind, and Rossi thinks it won't leave him again until they get to the bottom of this case. He knows that Hotch and Morgan feel the same way, Reid probably suspects, Leighton still has to get over this initial shock before coming to the same conclusion. He's afraid for her once she does put the pieces together.

"It's the same MO," Seaver says, staring intently at the bloodied wall. "Same signature, too. I'd say it was the same UnSub."

"Except he's stepped up from killing single women to killing a married woman in an occupied dwelling," Hotch adds. He has a very bad feeling about this one, something that – despite his gruesome job – doesn't happen to him very often. This is one of those cases that will define some – if not all – members of his team. After the year they've already had, he'd really hoped to be spared these situations. "That's a significant shift in victimology."

"I think we're missing the most important question here," Rossi says suddenly, and when he catches Hotch's hard stare he knows Hotch is thinking the exact same thing. Sylvia Burke being targeted wasn't a coincidence.

"What question?" Detective Roberts frowns.

"What are the odds of the same woman being targeted by a serial killer twice?" Hotch answers.

* * *

><p><strong>if you can, please let me know what you think!<strong>


	19. Ennobled By Her Scars

**author's notes:** this is a MONSTER of a chapter, and it gave me entirely too much grief. i hope everyone enjoys it! thank you so much for all your wonderful reviews last chapter, and once again, super-special thanks to my beta and my bestie **Inwenalas**.

**characters:** Reid/Leighton (OC), Morgan, Rossi, Hotch, Seaver, Garcia, Nick Mumford (OC), mention of JJ and Sylvia Burke (OC)

**warning: scenes in italics are set in 2008**

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

><p><strong>SCARS REMIND US WHERE WE'VE BEEN;;<strong>

****chapter eighteen  
><strong>**

* * *

><p><strong>date:<strong> May 14th-15th, 2012

**(1)**

When Leighton looks up into the mirror, drops of water dripping down her face, she hardly recognizes the person staring back at her. She's looking a sickly pallor, whatever food she'd been able to keep in stirring in her stomach. Leighton leans her arms down on the sink, taking a few deep breaths, but it makes her head feel woozy.

Why has this happened? How _could_ this have happened? Sylvia dead at the hands of another serial killer, another UnSub, one Leighton wasn't able to save her from this time around. Was she supposed to see this? Was the message on the wall meant for her? And if so, who was it from? This new UnSub they're chasing, or worse, Mumford?

_"Don't fight it," a deep thick voice says, and she feels herself leaning against a warm body. "It'll only make it worse." _

_But she does fight it, at first, her muscles tense around the blade of the knife, but start screaming the moment they do. It burns, fire, ice, she's not sure, but it's not pain. It _burns_. _

_"P-Please," she begs, but a flood of something ripples through her body and she breathes out blood. Her eyesight goes hazy. The knife is still inside her, she can feel it, screaming scratching _crawling_, burning her insides. She's never known this kind of pain, this encompassing, this all-consuming. It's against her better judgment, but she does as the voice tells her to do. She stops fighting._

_"That's it," the voice hushes, and there's a hand brushing through her hair. "Don't fight it."_

_The rest is easier somehow, the knife drawing down her abdomen, a wave of destruction down until the knife hits bone._

_Something warm runs down her leg._

_When Mumford lowers her down to the floor she can't move. She can hardly breathe. There's something inside her willing her to get up, _to move_, but her body isn't listening. She's immobile. _

Leighton shakes her head, willing the memories down like she's done so many times before. She dabs her face with some toilet paper, then straightens out her clothes, tucking her shirt back in her pants. Her fingers comb through her hair, pulling it back in a high ponytail. She still looks completely disheveled, but it'll do for now.

Just outside of the restroom, Morgan is waiting for her. "You good?" he asks, his eyes filled with concern for her.

Leighton nods slowly, and brushes her hair back behind her ears, a nervous tick this time. "Not very professional of me," she says, and laughs uncomfortably, looking up at Morgan. The worry in Morgan's eyes almost brings tears to her eyes.

"No one's gonna look down on you for that." Morgan shakes his head. "If we'd known sooner we wouldn't have let you in the house." Leighton nods again, and starts for the other side of the room, where the team is discussing the case, or maybe waiting for her. "Hey." Morgan grabs Leighton's arm gently and stops her in her tracks. "You don't _have_ to do this," Morgan says. "You don't have to be here."

"Yes, Morgan," Leighton says, taking a deep breath. "I do." Of course she needs to be here, if not for herself then for Sylvia. She has to see this through, with her team.

Morgan nods, and takes the lead, Leighton slowly following him across the room. She knows there are police officers staring at her, people she once met, even people she befriended. But she can't look back at them. Not now. Not just yet.

The adjoining room falls silent when Leighton enters, and everyone on the team is staring at her. She knows Hotch will ask her if she's okay, or tell her to take a step back, _demand_ that she let this case go, but she has a thing or two to say before that time comes. Leighton walks over to the evidence board, and looks at one of the crime scene photos. "This was from the Ripper," Leighton says, and swallows hard, pointing at the picture of the bloody message on Sylvia's bedroom wall.

"What makes you say that?" Rossi asks, talking around the main issue. Leighton shouldn't be on this case, she's emotionally involved, and this could affect her judgment. But Hotch is the one who'll have to make that call.

"It's what he asked Sylvia in the court room," Leighton answers. When Sylvia was in the witness stand two years ago she avoided Mumford's eyes all she could, even though Mumford was staring at her relentlessly. He'd yelled the question at her once she finished speaking. It'd taken three officers to hold him back. "That exact phrase."

"She fits both victimologies," Seaver says, thinking it's best to keep on working rather than let her worry for Leighton get the best of her. She knows everyone else is doing the same thing. "Save for not being single her physical appearance fits perfectly."

"So is this a St. Louis repeat?" Morgan asks, the only one besides Leighton still standing. He leans back against the picture window separating the room from the main bullpen. "One serial killer calling the other out?"

Leighton looks at him in question, but it's Seaver who asks the question: "What happened in St. Louis?"

Reid sits up in his chair. "The Mill Creek Killer and Hollow Man were two serial killers operating independently from each other until they learned of each other's existence," he says. "It started out as a student-teacher relationship, but when the Hollow Man didn't get the recognition he needed he actually thwarted the other's attempts at taking new victims."

"But that doesn't fit this case," Rossi says, and frowns. "The Ripper's been in jail for four years. He's on death row." He thinks they're beating around the bush again, missing the main point – Sylvia Burke's murder was _not_ a coincidence.

"Could our UnSub be a secret admirer?" Seaver asks, looking at Rossi sitting across from her.

"Could be." He shrugs. "But the timing wasn't a coincidence."

"No, it wasn't," Hotch says gravely, and looks at Leighton. He's not sure what to ask of her at this point. Her emotional reaction to seeing the house was far from professional, but they've all been in situations like that and still worked the case. Leighton's composure now makes him believe she's strong enough, he _wants_ to believe that she's strong enough to see this through all the way.

"What makes you say that?" Seaver frowns.

Rossi looks over at Leighton, but she's avoiding his eyes. Leighton knows what this is about, she's not oblivious. That message was left there for a reason, maybe for Sylvia, but most likely for her. It's not difficult to figure out; the trial was closed, so only people inside the courtroom that day would know what Mumford called out. "The UnSub wanted me to see this," she says. "He wanted us to connect these cases."

Reid is looking at Leighton closely, trying to discern any signs of hesitation in her movements, any cracks in her carefully constructed armor, but right now, _for_ now, Leighton manages to keep it together. He's afraid to think about how long that will last.

Seaver shakes her head. "Why?"

Leighton's eyes remain focused on the picture on the evidence board, while the rest of the conversation drowns out around her. But she knows what her teammates are saying. The location, the choice in victim, all set in place to draw the BAU here, to draw Leighton here now. But _what for_? Is this Mumford's final taunt? His last attempt at emotionally damaging those still connected to his case? Or some sort of revenge plot?

"Leighton," Hotch says, and Leighton's shaken from her train of thought. "I want you to talk to Nick Mumford in the morning." Leighton nods her consent without hesitation, even though her heart starts beating faster. She understands, they have to investigate all avenues. It's more than likely their UnSub and Mumford are in contact somehow. "The rest of us—"

"What?" Morgan exclaims, shooting forward to Leighton's defense. How can Hotch ask her to do this? "Hotch, _no_," Morgan says. Is Hotch intent on having Leighton break down completely? After everything they've been through as a team, he's going to ask _this_ of Leighton? "That's playing right into this guy's cards. _I'll_ go."

Leighton's touched by Morgan's concern for her, and as much as Morgan's proposition sounds like an easy way out of a messy situation, she can't let him do this. She knows she shouldn't think of this as her fight – that's not healthy at all – but she can't help it. "Morgan, it's okay," Leighton says, and feels everyone's eyes on her. "I'll do it."

"Are you sure?" Rossi asks, because he knows about Leighton's nightmares, the way they all have nightmares. Can she really face her boogeyman? Rossi knows she probably can, it's not a question of ability, it's a question of whether Leighton will be able to deal with the aftermath. Working on this case is one thing, signing up for a face-to-face with the man that scarred her an entirely different one.

"Yes." Leighton nods, and crosses her arms over her chest. "I'd like—Reid and Seaver with me?" she asks, not just because she wants Reid by her side. She's always dealt with Mumford on her own, but if she's going to get anything out of him she needs to catch him off guard. Morgan, Rossi and Hotch are alpha males, they will only encourage Mumford, Seaver and Reid won't. She has a team that trusts her now, she should use that to her advantage. She's not alone anymore.

"No problem," Hotch says. He's briefly worried that it'll spread the team too thin, but he can't run the risk of Leighton losing it – he understands why she's taking Reid and Seaver. They'll have JJ here in the morning as well, that should help with the workload. "We'll stay in constant contact."

Leighton nods and leans back against the wall, arms still crossed over her chest in an attempt to keep herself together, to keep from falling apart. She tells herself to calm down, because panicking won't get her anywhere, and she'll need a calm composure if she's going to face Nick Mumford again. But inside her chest her heart is kicking up a storm.

In the car on the way to the hotel, she can feel Reid's eyes on her every time they hit a stop sign or a red light. Seaver is in the back – Hotch had ordered all three of them to check everyone in, and get the semblance of a good night sleep before going to the prison in the morning. The rest of the team is still hard at work back at the police station.

Leighton calls Garcia when they arrive at the hotel, Seaver and Reid crossing the lobby to check them in. "Hey, Garcia," she says, and smiles to herself when she hears Garcia's cheerful voice; it's nice to know that on the other end of the line is a person who always sees the beauty in things, and has managed to hold on to that quality despite the horrific things they see every day. "I need you to recover a file for me."

"Files are my specialty," Garcia answers. "What do you need?"

"The Mumford file," Leighton says in short. She hopes Garcia won't have too many questions about it. "I need you to send it to Seaver's PDA." Out of all the members on the team Seaver is the least acquainted with the old case, but Leighton needs her read up by tomorrow.

"On its way. Anything else?" Garcia asks.

"No, that's all," Leighton answers. "I need Seaver up to date when we go to the prison tomorrow."

"Prison?" Garcia asks carefully, her voice small suddenly. "Mumford," she says softly, staring at the name on her screen. Something in her chest tightens, and suddenly she's fearful. "That's the guy who—"

"Yeah." Leighton sighs. "But don't worry about me."

"Not in my nature, ma petite puce," Garcia says. She looks around at her screens helplessly, wishing there was something more she could do, something she could say, but most of all Garcia wishes she could hug Leighton and tell her everything will be okay and that she's not alone. "Hey, hand over tall boy genius," she adds, hoping Reid is somewhere close by.

Leighton walks over to Reid and hands him her phone. "She wants to talk to you."

Reid frowns, but accepts the phone without complaint. "Garcia?" he asks, taking a few steps away from Leighton.

"Level with me, Reid," Garcia says. "How's my home girl doing?"

"She's—" Reid starts, but swallows the word – _fine _– immediately. He looks at Leighton over his shoulder; she's just accepting her room key from Seaver. "She's pretty torn up," he says, turning his head again to make sure Leighton doesn't hear.

Garcia sighs heavily. "You take care of her, okay?" she asks, mangling the foam rubber toy in her hands into something unrecognizable.

Reid smiles to himself. "I will. Bye, Garcia," he says, and follows Leighton and Seaver to the elevators.

Seaver's the first to arrive at her room on the second floor. Leighton and Reid both wish her a goodnight and watch Seaver disappear inside her room. Reid follows slowly behind Leighton, but it's only a dozen steps before they reach the next room. Leighton opens the door, putting her bag down just inside, and turns to face Reid.

"You okay?" Reid asks, even though he knows she's not. She's kept strong in front of the others, but now that they're alone Leighton lets down her guard. He can see it in the way she's holding herself, infinitely small little twitches that he's learned to read about Leighton, better than the other members of the team. She's not okay, she's not _fine_, but asking is the only way he knows to convey his concern without just putting his arms around her.

"I'm—" Leighton hesitates. She's not fine and she realizes that Reid has long since profiled that about her. "No." She shakes her head, only then allowing herself to see Sylvia again, let the pain in for just a moment. It's only in front of Reid—something tells her it will only ever be in front of Reid. "I just talked to her a few days ago, Spence. I know her husband and her kids. I should probably talk—"

"Let Hotch take care of that," Reid says. "I don't—I don't think you should worry about that right now," he adds, crossing his arms over his chest.

Leighton nods. "You're probably right."

"Want some company?" Reid asks. It would be easier to just put his arms around her, but they've established very clear boundaries—they're not the same people on the job as they are in private. And despite the privacy now, they're on a case.

Leighton smiles softly. "Are you sure that's professional, Dr Reid?" she asks, teasing. Reid grins, but doesn't release Leighton's eyes. "Sure," she amends, and walks into her room, Reid following closely behind. "Did you bring that chessboard of yours? Maybe you can finally start teaching me."

* * *

><p><strong>(2) <strong>

His eyes never leave Leighton, not when she insists on driving, not when they're handing in their sidearms at the gate before entering the prison. Leighton had seemed reasonably calm yesterday, and she looks calm now, but Reid can tell inside she's struggling. He hates seeing her like this, retreating behind her walls, dealing with this in her own head, on her own turf—the only way she knows how. He's long since stopped hoping Leighton will ever open up to him about what happened to her here, what Mumford did to her.

He remembers a conversation he once had with Elle, in a motel room in Dayton, Ohio, Elle's trauma still fresh beneath the surface. He'd tried to get her to open up, and somewhat succeeded, but still he hadn't been able to predict how she'd react to being confronted with a similar trauma. Should he ask Leighton to back off? Should he ask her to reconsider? He doesn't want to lose her.

But when the trio reaches the interrogation room Reid doesn't say anything, and he sees Leighton nodding at him in encouragement. Seaver and Leighton disappear into the next room, where they'll be watching his conversation with Mumford. Reid finds his way into the interrogation room.

"Who are you?" Nick Mumford asks, staring him up and down. He's nothing like this picture, Reid catches himself thinking, but figures that four years in jail has changed Mumford. Now that he's finally faced with Mumford, Reid realizes just how much different he feels about him than all other UnSubs he's faced—there's a deep hate in his heart for this man, because of what he did to Leighton, what he's _doing_ to Leighton right now.

Reid walks over to the table in the center of the room and sits down. "My name is Dr Spencer Reid, I'm with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI," he says, opening the police file he brought with him. "We want to talk to you about some recent murders."

"We?" Mumford asks. "Does that mean Leighton is here too? Because I'd much rather talk to her."

Behind the glass, Leighton feels a shiver run right up her spine, settling uncomfortably somewhere between her shoulder blades.

"Were you close?" Seaver asks quickly, hoping to distract Leighton. "Sylvia Burke," Seaver adds. Leighton looks at her sideways.

Leighton shrugs, keeping her arms crossed tight over her chest. "We emailed each other," she says, but her voice sounds thick with grief. "Or talked on the phone. So no, we weren't that close." She lies—Sylvia was her only connection to a grief so few could understand. They didn't need to talk about it in order to understand each other, they knew each other's pains and understood each other's silent pauses. No one else could ever understand it the way Sylvia did, without her first having to tell them exactly what happened.

Seaver looks at Leighton long and hard, trying to determine her state of mind, but Leighton is staring blankly ahead. "Why'd you want me here?" Seaver asks, looking at Reid through the glass.

"You're not his type," Leighton explains. "And you keep calm under pressure."

"And Reid?"

Leighton looks at her briefly. "You'll see," Leighton says, and turns on her heels. Reid and her had talked about this—when it comes to Mumford they needed some sort of strategy and they'd discussed it in detail last night. Their best shot was to catch Mumford off guard.

In the hallway, Leighton stops in front of the door to prepare herself. She takes a deep breath, filling her lungs with oxygen—she knows from the moment she'll walk into that room, she'll have problems breathing.

Reid gets up from behind the table once she enters the room. He walks over to her, and – just like they agreed – Reid closes the distance between them. Leighton brushes her hair back behind her ear, and Reid whispers something in her ear. They hadn't discussed what it would be, but he goes for "Good luck."

Reid moves back, their eyes locking for a few seconds, and it almost sends Leighton over the edge—she can read his worry for her in his eyes. But she has to be strong now, so she averts her eyes and looks at Mumford, further in the room. Reid leaves the room a few seconds later.

"Hello, Nick," Leighton says, and makes her way to the table.

Mumford relaxes his shoulders, and leans back in his seat, his hands restrained by a pair of handcuffs looped through a metal ring on the underside of the table. He doesn't say her name, but instead he lets his eyes wander all over her body. "Is that some kind of profiling trick to see how I react?" he asks, his head tipped to the side.

Leighton swallows hard, hoping feverishly that whatever words come out of her mouth sound convincing. "What is?" Leighton asks, sitting down across from Mumford. He hasn't changed, Leighton thinks, even though he's visibly thinner. But Leighton knows it's really his eyes, his dark beady eyes, unchanged even after all these years.

"That whispering in each other's ear?" Mumford asks, leaning against the table. It's bolted to the floor and Leighton's grateful for that—if he'd made it move she thinks she just might have jumped. "Is that supposed to make me jealous? Am I supposed to believe that a guy like him could satisfy a woman like you?"

Leighton frowns to herself, the words out of Mumford's mouth a painful reminder of things people still credited her with, but she'd always refused to believe. Why is he suddenly treating her like a victim? Leighton brushes her hair back behind her other ear in an attempt to reestablish some rapport. "Why not?" Leighton shrugs.

Mumford rolls his shoulders.

"She's good," Seaver says in the other room, listening to every word being exchanged between Leighton and Mumford. She knows that once Leighton is finished with Mumford, it'll be her turn to go in. Reid went in there to put Mumford at ease; he'd never be perceived as a threat. Then Reid established a relationship between him and Leighton, instantly destroying what reassurance Mumford had, yet still aware that he can manipulate Leighton's feelings. The same won't be true once she goes in there.

"She knows him," Reid answers, biting his lip, nervous suddenly. Whatever composure Leighton had managed to muster up seems to be disappearing. She's struggling, he can see that, but there's little he can do right now.

In the interrogation room, Mumford answers Leighton's question with another question.

"How's Sylvia doing?" he asks, his dark eyes digging into hers. Leighton knows it before feeling it; underneath the table, her left hand tremors in her lap. With her back turned towards the mirrored glass, she prays Reid doesn't notice. "How is she liking my scars?" Mumford asks, but doesn't stop there. "How about you?" Something in Leighton's stomach drops. There he goes again, labeling her a victim. "How are you liking my gift?"

Leighton averts her eyes against her better judgment, but she can't stand him staring at her like that, like she's a victim down in his basement, strapped down to a table, waiting to be scarred again. How does he keep doing this to her, making her feel small and powerless. "Sylvia Burke is dead," Leighton says, closing the folder on the table just to give herself something to do. "But I think you knew that before I walked into the room."

A sly smile makes its way to one of the corners of Mumford's mouth. "So you saw her then?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

Leighton looks up at him, a little too fast perhaps, but refrains from saying anything.

"You did see her," Mumford says, a full smile crossing his features now.

Leighton swallows hard. "I got your message too," she says, clenching her left hand into a fist under the table. She knows Mumford already admitted to working with the UnSub, or at the very least being in contact with him—she should get out of there while she's still sure she can stand.

When Mumford leans up against the table again, it takes Leighton's every muscle to keep herself in place. "I knew it would get you here," Mumford whispers.

Leighton stops breathing.

She gets up from her chair and leaves through the door without saying another word. In the hallway she leans back against the wall, releasing a shuddery breath, fighting her tears. She tries hard to breath around the pounding rock in her chest, but it's no use. It's the same feeling that haunts her in her dreams, lying still on Mumford's living room floor, unable to move. Immobile.

Slowly, Leighton makes her way back to the observation room, knees shaking.

Reid makes his way over to her immediately. "You okay?" he asks.

He keeps asking that, Leighton thinks, while he knows it's not the right question to ask if he wants to get a decent answer out of her. But this time she doesn't answer him at all, she's trying too hard to keep herself together. "It's your turn," Leighton says when she turns to Seaver.

"What do you want me to do?" Seaver asks, even though she does have some idea of where to go from here. She's the one that needs to be strong now, just like Leighton kept strong when she was the one struggling with her past; this is what being a team means, being there for each other when one of them might not be up to the task.

"Don't show him any fear," Leighton answers, but quickly realizes that's not helpful at all. Seaver already knows that.

"Killers like Mumford need constant affirmation," Reid says instead, sparing Leighton the trouble of having to profile Mumford again. "The way he talks about his scars, his gifts, it's his way of owning his victims. The pictures, too, he sent them to the victims' families to extend the torture. It gives him the ultimate control."

"Play into that," Leighton says. "He'll make it easy." But Leighton knows that when she says things like that, it's because she knows Seaver will be able to stay strong, while she still isn't breathing right.

Seaver leaves the room, only to emerge in the next one a few moments later. Mumford visibly tenses again in his chair. Leighton watches Seaver closely, even though she knows very well that she'll hold her own and remain professional. Mumford is her trauma, not Seaver's, not Reid's.

"He's never asked me that before," Leighton remarks absentmindedly, arms once again attempting to keep her torso together in one piece.

Reid looks at her. "Asked you what?"

Leighton looks up at Reid, and starts biting her bottom lip. "If I liked his gift," Leighton says.

Reid follows Leighton's gaze to the other room again. He'd noticed the same pattern in Mumford's words. "He's never seen you as one of his victims. You just got in his way," Reid says. "You never fit the victimology either. Apart from being a brunette, you're nothing like his other victims." Mumford targeted married women, interested not only in the pain he caused his victims, but the psychological impact their deaths had on his victims' families.

Of course Reid doesn't know if what he's saying is true. Leighton got in Mumford's way and it got her injured, but whether Mumford truly wanted her dead, Reid doesn't know. It's clear now that Mumford enjoys tormenting Leighton, poking at the scars he left her with.

"It's not his," Reid says after countless of moments have passed, arms crossed over his chest.

"What?" Leighton asks, turning her head to look at Reid again.

"Your scar," Reid says, drawing out the word longer than necessary as he looks at Leighton sideways. He knows she sees the scar at it is: a permanent blemish she's forced to carry around, something that _marks_ her as a victim. He wishes she could see it as a sign that she survived. "It isn't his."

Leighton casts down her eyes, shutting down right in front of him. It breaks his heart to see it. All he wants to do is reach out and put his arms around her, but the distance Leighton is putting between them stops him. "You say that like I don't know," Leighton says, her eyes shining with tears, focused back on the room behind the glass.

"Your hand—" Reid says carefully, still looking at her. Even though Leighton's back had been turned to him, he'd seen how the tremor shook through her hand.

Leighton flexes the fingers in her left hand. "I know," she says, without averting her eyes from Seaver or Mumford. "I'll be fine."

Reid thinks Leighton really knows better than to use that word, but she only seems to have eye for what's going on in the other room.

"But why now?" Seaver asks Mumford in the interrogation room. "Why target Sylvia Burke now?" He's only months away from his execution, is he that much of a control freak that he needs to kill the one victim that got away?

"Unfinished business," Mumford answers, and smiles. "And I needed to get Leighton here."

"Son of a _bitch_," Leighton curses under her breath, and turns around, facing away from the see-through glass. "Did these women die because of me?" she asks, and turns around to look at Reid.

"Leigh, no." Reid takes a step closer to her. "He's trying to get you to blame yourself," he says, and realizes that Mumford is succeeding. "Mumford just found someone like him to finish—"

"—what he started?" Leighton fills in the words. "Sylvia is _dead_," Leighton adds strongly, trying hard to keep her voice down. "She'd started a new life. She felt safe again. And now she died at the whim of the same man I swore to protect her from!"

"There's no way you could have known this, Leighton," Seaver says suddenly. Leighton hadn't even noticed her coming back in. "This isn't your fault."

Leighton sighs. "I know," she says, while looking at Mumford through the one-way mirror. He's never going to stop haunting her, Leighton thinks, but doesn't say it out loud to avoid sounding overly melodramatic. What now? They got some of the answers they were looking for, but their UnSub still remains at large.

When Leighton looks back at Reid she can tell he's mulling something over. "What is it?" Leighton asks.

"He wanted us here," Reid says without looking at her.

"Yeah," Leighton says, waiting for some more information. "That's why Sylvia's dead. He wanted me to see."

"What if it's more than that?" Reid asks, finally looking at Leighton. But neither Seaver nor Leighton seems to be catching on. "You said today was the first time he talked about 'his gift' in relation to you."

Seaver picks up on Reid's train of thought. "You think he sees Leighton as a victim now too," she says.

"Could be."

"That means that whoever killed Sylvia could be after Leighton as well," Seaver says.

Reid looks at Leighton; he'd give anything not to say this. "You do fit part of the victimology."

Leighton doesn't release Reid's eyes, even though hers widen in fear. "And this guy isn't afraid to chance victimology," she says, coming to the same conclusion Seaver and Reid had already reached. Leighton leans back against the wall— it isn't the first time she's had her life threatened, and in a way she puts her life on the line every day doing this job. But this realization has a profoundly grounding effect on her. Mumford wants her dead.

"I'll call Hotch," Reid says suddenly, and grabs his cellphone. "Get you a protection detail."

"No," Leighton breathes, her voice small and frail.

"What?" Reid asks, and looks at her in question, the meaning of the one word only then sinking in. "Leigh—"

"Call Hotch and update him, but I don't want protection," Leighton says, her voice stronger now. She doesn't want to die, and she has no intention of putting her life in danger, but this might be the only way of catching their UnSub if any other lines of inquiry fall through. "If this guy is really after me—"

"You want to set yourself up as bait?" Seaver asks.

Reid reacts immediately. "Leigh, we can't let you do that," he says. How can she even think about doing this? Hotch will never allow it, and neither will anyone else on the team.

Leighton looks at him hard. Her mind's already made up. "It's my decision," she says.

* * *

><p><strong>if you can, please let me know what you think!<strong>

**additional notes:** anyone have any suggestions/wishes/hopes for this story? i'd love to here your thoughts/perspective on everything!


	20. Uncharted

**author's notes:** a completely unplanned, yet not unwanted structure - i really love how it turned out! i hope you all enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it. thank you so much to all you lovelies leaving me comments/reviews/new alerts, and super-special thanks to my beta **Inwenalas**, who has already jumped around in joy after having learned what i have in store for the epilogue :)

**characters:** Reid/Leighton (OC), Hotch, JJ, Detective Matt Roberts (OC), Rossi, Morgan, Strauss, Seaver, Natalie (OC), John Burke (OC), Charles Baker (OC), Nick Mumford (OC), mention of Sylvia Burke (OC)

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

><p><strong>SCARS REMIND US WHERE WE'VE BEEN;;<strong>

****chapter nineteen  
><strong>**

* * *

><p><strong>(San Francisco)<strong>

But as it turns out, it's not her decision at all.

Leighton hadn't expected to be given the green light right away, after all she'd be placing herself in danger, but she hoped the benefits would outweigh the potential disastrous consequences. In truth, Leighton only sees one benefit: if the UnSub focuses his attention on her, no other innocent women will be losing their life at the hands of this maniac.

"This is not your decision to make," Hotch says, arms crossed over his chest. He gives her a hard stare, but Leighton's stare is equally unrelenting. There's a determination in her eyes that almost convinces him that it would be the right decision to make. But not everyone on the team would see it that way. "We all have to agree that this is the best course of action."

"Then convince me it's not," Leighton says, and looks around the room. The rest of the team had been putting together a profile while Leighton, Reid and Seaver visited the prison, and they'd just finished presenting it to the local PD. Everything in the crimes pointed to an increasingly more confident offender who wasn't afraid to flaunt his arrogance.

JJ takes a step forward. "Leighton, we can't consciously put you in danger."

"The danger can be minimized," Leighton answers.

"How?" Hotch asks, because he'd seen Leighton talking to Detective Matt Roberts before the debriefing and the two of them had seemed on the same page.

"24-hour surveillance," the detective now answers. "Undercover cops at the hotel."

"You realize this only works if the UnSub believes we've gone," Rossi says, staring at Leighton hard.

Leighton looks at him, but her face doesn't betray any emotion. "Yes," she answers in short.

"There's no way that's going to happen, Tanner," Morgan interjects. How can she do this? How can Leighton stand here in front of all of them, in front of _Reid_, and ask them to put her in danger? Last time one of them did that, it was Emily, and he was almost forced to watch her die in his arms. At least in Leighton's case he knew how to deter her. "I know I don't have to remind you what happened last time."

But Leighton's answer is immediate. "Last time I didn't have back-up. I didn't have a team. Hell, I didn't even have a profile," she says, taking a deep breath. "And I won't be facing the same man."

"No," Morgan says, slumping his shoulders. "You'll be facing the man who killed your friend."

Leighton feels anger flaring up inside her beyond her control. He's telling her not to make this personal? _Him_? She doesn't want to bring Doyle into this, not with the rest of the team there to hear it, but does Morgan really want to lecture her on making things too personal? "You—" Leighton starts, but Reid interrupts her.

"It's our best shot," Reid says, finally speaking up. He'd been quietly watching the entire conversation from a distance, and it had only shown him just how determined Leighton is about this. "The profile points to a sociopath with a narcissistic personality," Reid adds. "The UnSub showed greater confidence with each kill. This growing confidence combined with his superiority complex makes Leighton his perfect target."

Morgan stares at Reid in disbelief. He doesn't understand, doesn't Reid want to keep Leighton safe at all costs? Was he wrong about the two of them? "Come on, man," Morgan says. "It's too dangerous." He turns and looks at Hotch in despair.

"Could you all give us a minute?" Hotch says, ignoring Morgan's pleas. In any other situation Leighton would be right, drawing the UnSub to her would be a sure way to ensure the safety of any other potential victims. But this is personal to Leighton, as it once was to him and to Elle, and both of them ended up killing a man. He wonders if Leighton will show the same lack of restraint when faced with the man who killed her friend. "You're taking a big risk here, Leighton," Hotch says once the rest of the team has left the room. "And I can't justify keeping the team here."

"It's my risk to take, Hotch," Leighton answers. "And I have the SFPD and Matt to back me up."

Hotch looks at Leighton again, but doesn't detect the slightest hint of hesitation. He can't tell if she's showing him what he wants to see, or if she's really reached a point of calm determination. But he realizes just as well as Leighton that this is their best shot. "Very well," Hotch says.

He walks out of the room towards the rest of the team. "We're doing it Leighton's way," Hotch says, and hushes Morgan with one single glance. "JJ, I need you to call in some favors. Make sure the media's there when we leave, but assure them the SFPD has our profile and will continue to work the case." He turns to Reid. "I assume you made sure Mumford won't get any messages out."

"The warden put him in solitary when he found out we were coming," Reid says. He looks at Leighton, but she's staring blankly ahead again, lost in thought.

"We'll go back to the hotel, make a big show out of it, and fly back to DC," Hotch says. He can see more than one member of his team wants to protest, and this time he does allow Morgan to speak.

"I'm not going anywhere," Morgan says. "I'll leave the hotel, but I'm staying here."

Hotch only needs a few moments to think it through. "Very well," he says. "Reid, you stay as well. Keep working the case. Who knows, maybe we'll get lucky and catch him before there's a need for any of this."

* * *

><p><strong>(Washington DC)<strong>

"And what was your first reaction to Agent Tanner's idea of setting herself up at bait?"

"I—was surprised," Seaver answers, shifting in her seat. This is the first time she's had to participate in one of these debriefings and it's making her very uncomfortable. It almost feels as if Chief Strauss is looking for a scapegoat, while there's no reason to.

"Why?" Strauss asks. "Because you knew she was emotionally unstable?"

"No, ma'am, I was surprised that she was so willing to put herself in that situation with everything that happened already." After seeing Leighton's reaction to finding out Sylvia Burke had died no one would have believed she'd pull her act together. But the fact is Leighton had, surprising all of them.

"You mean the murder of Sylvia Burke."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Do you believe Agent Tanner was reckless?" Chief Strauss asks.

"Absolutely not, ma'am," Seaver answers resolutely. "She followed protocol, and consulted the team every step of the way."

* * *

><p><strong>(San Francisco)<strong>

The whole team leaves the police precinct together, some more reluctant than others, but they all start packing while JJ organizes a brief press conference. Leighton, the only one not packing, follows Reid to his room and watches him pack in silence. She knows that silence means something, and it doesn't take an expert to render it into words.

"You know I'll be perfectly safe," Leighton says, leaning against the bathroom doorframe, arms crossed over her chest. Reid looks at her briefly, but looks away just as fast. "I'm getting wired the moment you leave. There's police officers next door. Garcia's even tracking my phone."

Reid looks up at her tentatively, closing the zipper on his bag. He straightens his shoulders, and puts his hands in his pockets. "Does that mean I don't get to worry?" he asks, looking away from Leighton again.

Sadness touches Leighton's heart suddenly and rather unexpectedly. He's right, she thinks, she's not thinking about how he feels about this. It can't be easy for him to watch her do this, put herself in danger. She's not being fair to him at all. "Of course you do," Leighton breathes, and walks over to him. She throws her arms around Reid's neck as soon as she reaches him, hugging him closer than ever.

Reid's arms wrap around her torso so tight he almost lifts her up from the ground. "Just be careful, okay?" he mumbles into her hair.

Leighton closes her eyes. She thinks it's remarkable how much Reid can say despite using so few words. She's not being fair, but she's grateful Reid doesn't make a bigger deal out of it. Still, she suspects Hotch asked Reid to stay behind for more than just backing her up or keep Morgan in line. "I will," she whispers. "I promise."

When Reid feels Leighton's arms loosening around him he's reluctant to let her go. He looks at her and smiles, only to stop himself from telling her he doesn't want her to do this, he doesn't want her in danger even if there are safeguards in place. He just wants to take her away from all of this. But he knows anything he says will be ignored, or worse, will only make Leighton angry. No, Reid thinks, he has to be strong for her and supportive, because that's what Leighton needs from him right now.

Leighton walks him outside, where the rest of the team is already waiting. They say goodbye just by looking at each other; the real goodbye had taken place inside.

JJ walks over to Leighton and hugs her. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

"I will," Leighton says. She hugs Seaver goodbye as well, and waves goodbye to the rest of the team. She wonders if somewhere out there, or somewhere very close-by perhaps, the UnSub is watching her. A shiver runs up her spine just thinking about it, so she goes inside where the undercover SFPD officers are waiting in the room adjacent hers to wire her up, while others are making sure they have eyes and ears in her room as well.

She spends the rest of the day indoors, reading a book Reid had left behind for her just to give herself something to do. Waiting's never been a particular talent of hers, and Leighton knows this wait could take weeks; she wonders how long Hotch will allow her out here. When evening falls she goes out for dinner by herself, but knows that somewhere at Quantico, a certain technical analyst is no doubt tracking her every move.

On her way back to the hotel Leighton remembers she'd promised her family she'd come over for dinner during the weekend. She dials her sister's number automatically, well aware that someone will be listening in on her conversation, but she needs to hear Natalie's voice. "Hey, sis," Leighton says.

"Let me guess," Natalie says, a hardness in her voice not all too unfamiliar to Leighton. "You can't make it to dinner this weekend."

Leighton sighs and closes her eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm—" she hesitates. She can't very well tell her sister that she's playing bait for the SFPD so they can catch a serial killer. Her family got her through the worst time of her life once, it wouldn't be fair to them to let them know she's willingly putting herself in danger again.

"You're in San Francisco, aren't you?" Natalie asks. It's surprising to Leighton how her sister's voice instantly mellows and sounds concerned and supportive. "It's all over the news. That poor woman."

"I'm only here for the funeral," Leighton explains, deciding not to tell Natalie about her involvement with the case either. Hotch and JJ had probably been featured on the news, but Leighton can't worry about that right now. She's not sure Natalie believes her, but she detects little further accusation in her tone.

"Are you—" Natalie starts, but stops herself. There's a short silence. "Please, be careful, Leighton," Natalie pleads, and for the first time in a long time it makes Leighton realize just how many times her sister has had to be strong for others, not just her, but Joe as well. "And come and see us when you can? Mom and dad—" Natalie hesitates again. "We _all_ miss you," she corrects.

Leighton smiles to herself. Maybe she takes her sister for granted sometimes, but she always comes through when she needs her most. Part of her hopes that's true for her as well. The job keeps her away often, but she hopes that when her family really needs her, she's there for them. All of them. "I miss you too. I'll come by as soon as I can."

* * *

><p><strong>(Washington DC)<strong>

"Do you believe Agent Tanner was reckless?" Strauss asks, and sees Morgan hesitating for countless of moments. He's the first on the team to hesitate answering that question so far, and she finds it interesting. Normally Morgan is always the first to speak out in defense of his colleagues, but she also knows – judging by Hotch's grief assessments – that Morgan most affected by Emily Prentiss' death. "Agent Morgan?" Strauss presses.

"No, ma'am," Morgan answers. "I don't think she was reckless."

"Why not?" Strauss asks, because she's eager to find out what caused him to hesitate.

"Being reckless implies she didn't give her actions any thought, or had no care for the potential consequences," Morgan answers, his tone professional and controlled. "But she took everything into consideration." He knows he's not telling the whole truth, but Leighton's his friend, and her strategy had played out perfectly.

"Even the potential danger she was putting herself in."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Endangering herself wasn't reckless?" Strauss raises an eyebrow.

"There were many safeguards in place, ma'am," Morgan answers. "We had everything under control."

"Yet you didn't agree with Agent Hotchner's initial decision to put Agent Tanner in that position."

"I didn't agree with Agent Tanner's insistence to put herself in that position," Morgan corrects. That's what it always comes down to, they're looking for someone to blame. If an operation went awry they needed a scapegoat, if it went well they needed justification for someone's actions. Leighton's justification was that she wanted justice for what happened to her friend. In her shoes, Morgan would have done the same. "But I did what Hotch told me to do."

"What caused your hesitation?"

Morgan sighs. "Look, we all know what it's like to lose a friend," he says, even though he's not sure Strauss does know. "A case gets personal and we all lose a little perspective. I was afraid she might have lost sight of the bigger picture." He knows as soon as the words leave his mouth why Leighton keeps coming to him when he's working overtime to find Doyle. He didn't want her in danger. She doesn't want to see him endangering himself.

"But she didn't?"

"Leigh—" Morgan sighs. "Agent Tanner handled everything with great professionalism and care," Morgan says. "She considered the profile as we would have in any other case and acted accordingly."

* * *

><p><strong>(San Francisco)<strong>

_I'm sorry_, Leighton thinks as she lowers the white rose down onto the jet-black coffin. She still hasn't entirely accepted that Sylvia is gone, that she'll never talk to her again, never be able to share this grief with anyone again. And she thinks of Reid, quite unexpectedly, someone willing to carry her grief with her. Maybe it's time he knew everything.

"Agent Tanner," a voice sounds from behind her, but she recognizes it immediately.

Leighton takes a deep breath and turns around. "It's Leighton, John, please," she says, staring up into two bright blue eyes filled with tears. Each of his hands is occupied by a small child, a boy and a girl the same age, Sylvia's twins. "I'm—I'm so sorry for your loss," Leighton says, and feels tears welling up in her eyes. She's often had to tell relatives that their loved ones had been killed, and she'd been one of the agents tasked to tell John Burke his wife had gone missing four years ago. But this—this is more excruciating than any of that combined. "I wish there was more I could do."

John Burke visibly struggles with his grief, but he manages to stay strong. "You saved her life once, Leighton," he says, eyes filled with tears. "You gave her courage." A tear escapes Leighton's eye. "This wasn't your fault."

Leighton nods, but doesn't say anything. She's afraid that once she starts crying she won't be able to stop. Sylvia's seven-year old daughter Charlotte walks over to her and hugs her tight around the waist. Leighton smiles through her tears as she looks down at the young girl. Charlotte has her mother's eyes. "What was that for?" Leighton asks.

"Mommy would have wanted me to," Charlotte answers.

"Thank you," Leighton says.

She's walking to her rental car when she feels her cellphone vibrate in her pocket; it's Garcia. "You know you're not supposed to call me," Leighton says, even though it's a relief to be able to talk to someone.

"And you know I won't stop worrying until all my angels are back home safe," Garcia answers, and glances over at the balls of wool on her desk. She'd started stress-knitting Leighton a scarf two days ago and was already finished; she's considering adding mittens as well.

Leighton sniffles and smiles through her tears again. "I know," she says. "And I do appreciate it."

"Update on our progress," Garcia says, eyes shooting to her screens. She realizes she doesn't have the best news, but it's better than nothing. "I've uncovered several emails Mumford sent from prison." She decides Leighton doesn't need to know the details described in the emails, details about Mumford's victims and his methods, advice from one serial killer to the other. "I am yet to determine where he send them or to whom, but it's a step in the right direction?"

"With Penelope Garcia on the case we'll solve this case in no time," Leighton says.

"Aww, you just say that because it's true." Garcia beams, but the sentiment is quickly replaced with concern again. Maybe knitting a poncho would give her less time to worry. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

"I will, PG," Leighton says. Even though Hotch had advised against any of her colleagues contacting her while she was under surveillance she's grateful Garcia has a penchant for breaking the rules. Part of her wants to call Reid right after this conversation, but she knows she won't. There are too many people listening in. "And, Garcia?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you," Leighton says, grateful with every fiber of her being for the entire team, for the amazing friends she's made and for the support she's receiving. With one single phone call Garcia has managed to lift her spirits.

Garcia smiles. "And you are ever so welcome."

Some ways across town, Reid and Morgan have settled into their new hotel and are going over the profile again. They'd promised Hotch and Leighton they'd be working the case from here, and that's exactly what they'd been doing for the past two days. Reid checks his watch for the fifth time in the past half hour, and it makes Morgan realize where exactly Leighton is right now. The funeral's probably just coming to an end. Reid doesn't want to be here right now, he wants to be with Leighton.

"Hey, Reid," Morgan calls out, but Reid doesn't move. "Kid, are you okay?" he asks, even though it's not the smartest question to ask.

"What?" Reid says, shaking his head. "Yeah. I'm— I'm fine," he says, and refocuses his attention on the file in his lap.

Morgan sighs, and sits down in the armchair facing Reid. It's not surprising Reid's distracted by his worry for Leighton, but that won't help them. "I'm worried about her too, you know," Morgan says, watching Reid closely. "But the best way to help her is to catch this guy before he shows up on her doorstep."

"I know," Reid answers, but realizes just as well as Morgan does that the UnSub they're attempting to catch is a ghost. There's no DNA or fingerprints at the scenes, there aren't any witnesses in any of the crimes, so the only mistake he can make at this point is break into Leighton's hotel room. Safe to say nothing has so far put his mind at ease.

"Why'd you agree to this?" Morgan asks suddenly. It doesn't make sense to him. Everyone on the team knew they were seeing each other again, and that this time around it was much more serious. They didn't go out of their way to hide it, but had clearly agreed to some boundaries when it came to their interactions at work. Still, this was a rather unusual situation.

Reid looks up from his file. He knows what Morgan doesn't ask. "I know why you don't want her to do this."

"And you think I'm wrong?"

"No, not at all," Reid answers, and straightens himself in his chair. "I don't want to see her get hurt either. It's just—" Reid frowns to himself. What was it? He wouldn't have let it happen if it'd seemed Leighton couldn't handle it. Leighton's far stronger than she gives herself credit for, and Reid can't help but wonder if that self-image she has of herself has been projected onto the others' view of her. "She knows what she's doing," Reid says.

"Yeah, so did Emily," Morgan says, his voice sad, and he avoids looking at Reid. It's the closest he allows himself to come to a confession of why he's being like this, why he's so averse to the idea of letting Leighton do this. No one would have believed it when Leighton first joined the team – almost a year ago now – but he's let Leighton into his life, into his heart. They've become friends, and he doesn't know he could take losing another friend.

Reid remains silent; he's still Leighton and Morgan's common ground, even though he knows Morgan has come to accept Leighton as a friend and as a partner. It's difficult to be the one who understands both sides of this, Morgan's aversion to letting Leighton do this, but also Leighton's equally strong determination to see this through. He just feels it's right to support Leighton. "Leighton has backup," he says after countless of moments have passed.

* * *

><p><strong>(Washington DC)<strong>

"It has come to my attention that you and Agent Tanner are in a romantic relationship," Strauss says, looking up from her notes. It was protocol for unit leaders to pass this information along to their unit chiefs, and Hotch had dutifully followed that protocol. She still wants to hear it from Agent Reid. "Is that correct?"

"I don't see how that's relevant," Reid answers.

"Please, answer the question, Dr Reid."

Reid takes a deep breath. "Yes, that is correct," he answers. He hates debriefings like this, it always feels like Strauss and the other Powers That Be are looking for someone to blame, rather than accept that in the field Hotch sometimes has to make snap decisions and trust his team members to know what they're doing.

"So you don't think your judgment could have been clouded by your personal feelings for her?" Strauss asks.

"If it had, ma'am, I would have asked her not to go through with it."

Strauss frowns. "How's that?"

"If I had allowed my personal feelings for Agent Tanner to play into my decision, I wouldn't have agreed with Hotch to use her as bait," Reid explains. He knows it's only partly true; it's his feelings for Leighton that allowed him to see her side as well, to understand why she did it and why she would come out of it a stronger person. But Strauss doesn't need to know the ins and outs of his personal life. "I would have kept her out of harm's way."

"I see," Strauss says. "How did you feel about Agent Hotchner's decision to use Agent Tanner as bait?"

"My feelings didn't come into play, ma'am," Reid answers. "It was the right call to make. The UnSub remained focused on Agent Tanner, and didn't take any other innocent lives."

"But you couldn't be sure of that."

"Our profile was that of a narcissistic sociopath," Reid says. "We knew there was a high probability that the UnSub would want to outdo himself and see Agent Tanner as a challenge. And we were right."

"You don't think she was reckless."

The word instantly grounds him. "Most definitely not," Reid answers. Is that what this is about? Branding Leighton once again as a reckless FBI Agent that has little place out in the field? Maybe she took it personally, but which of them hasn't done that before? They've all been reckless, but in this case Leighton wasn't. Without her this case could have been much messier, or worse, it could have gone unsolved.

* * *

><p><strong>(San Francisco)<strong>

He watches her for a week and a half before making his move. It's surprising how easy this was, Mumford had made it out as if the BAU would be on his heels the moment they arrived, but they hadn't gotten one step closer to finding him. They'd even given up on finding him. When he contacted Mumford he never could have dreamed he'd be give such a wonderful task to complete, such a challenge for him to undertake. And what a rush it had been. The panic in that woman's eyes, Sylvia, made all the more sweeter knowing she'd been there before, and knew exactly what would be coming to her.

The gifts Mumford had left her with were truly a work of art; it was a shame the ones on her face were covered with make-up. She'd struggled so deliciously hard beneath him, begging for her life, begging for her children's lives, even though they weren't in the house and he had no intention to harm them. And then she'd gotten angry, spewing every profanity she knew at him, calling him names even he blushed at. She was strong for a housewife, but then he knew she'd been taking self-defense classes. Little good they did her.

When he saw the Chevy Tahoes pulling up to the house he knew it was the FBI. The first to get out of the cars was Leighton Tanner herself, his greatest challenge, but from the moment he saw her he knew he had to get her alone. She was just his type, tall, brown hair, a perfect replica of what he'd once lost. It was a shame that Mumford had left her with a gift already too. But she'd end up being his, completely.

She'd walked right past him in the house, her distress hitting her so hard she was disoriented, woozy. But the rest of her team had walked right past him as well. They would never find him, he was above them, _better_ than them. Two agents brought Tanner back down with them; she threw up in the grass outside and she was shaking! Shaking! Imagine what he could make her feel when he got his hands on her.

The next time he sees her is outside of the hotel when she's saying goodbye to her colleagues. When he'd heard the news about the FBI leaving on the radio in the lab he hadn't believed it. They were actually leaving. They knew he'd never get found unless he allowed it and that wasn't about to happen. One more kill, sweet Leighton Tanner, and he'd be out of there, across state lines and pick up somewhere else. He had no intention of getting caught.

One more kill. Here in San Francisco anyway.

He'd already given his notice at the crime lab, so he was free to roam around. He followed her to Sylvia Burke's funeral, but had kept a distance, he hated funerals. But watching her from his car, seeing her wipe tears from her face, now that was a rush. The death he'd caused had repercussions, it affected the people around his victims and to taste it was so much sweeter than he could have imagined.

Another week passed where he watched her – she stuck to a steady routine. In the mornings she'd go for a five-mile run, and went back to the hotel to shower and have breakfast. Then she'd go out for coffee and proceed to the prison; he'd lost all contact with Mumford but it seemed Agent Tanner still hadn't given up on catching a break in his case. A futile attempt, because the only time she'd see him was right before she died.

In the afternoon she had a long lunch by herself, made a run to the grocery store or rented a DVD to watch at night. The lights went out every night around eleven, until about six, when she got up to start her routine all over again. That was his window to strike. That's when it had to happen.

He scopes the lobby first; he'd already deduced Tanner's room was on the second floor, room number 215, the rooms next to hers both empty, judging by the keys still hanging from their hooks in the lobby. At night there was no one minding the front desk; guests had to ring the bell on the counter to get service. This was going to go smooth, it's almost as if he'd planned it himself.

A week and a half after his last kill he can feel the need rising. He needs to kill. He has to act on an impulse so deep within him that it guides him. He puts on latex gloves underneath his leather black ones, and removes the knife from the sealed plastic bag he'd put it in after cleaning it.

It's midnight and the entire neighborhood is quiet around him, the lobby is empty and the hotel corridors are completely disserted. He can't even hear any of the guests inside. But there's only one guest he's interested in. One last kill here. His gift to Nicolas Mumford.

He picks the lock with the same ease he had before, and enters the room noiselessly. He walks over to the bed, a hapless shape visible through the sheets. He takes a moment to listen, but doesn't hear a thing. His grip tightens around the hilt of his weapon as he crawls onto the bed. One last kill. But he'd promised to take his time with her.

The cold sting of metal against the back of his head stops him cold.

"Drop the knife," a male voice calls out, Detective Roberts, and he can feel the barrel of the gun pressing against his skull tighter. "Drop the knife or I swear to God I will blow your brains out."

He lets go of the knife; it falls to the carpeted floor with a dull thud. Other police officers pour into the room, grabbing hold of his arms and cuffing them behind his back. They pull him off the bed.

Leighton emerges from the adjacent room in her PJs. He sees it now, the deception, the ruse, set up to draw him into this trap. "You _bitch_!" he screams, struggling against the two sets of arms holding him in place, but it's to no avail.

"Say hi to Nick for me," Leighton says, and crosses her arms over her chest.

* * *

><p><strong>(Washington DC)<strong>

"Do you enjoy the media attention, Agent Tanner?" Strauss asks, folding her hands together on top of the table.

"Excuse me?" Leighton frowns, feeling her heart drop to her stomach. What exactly is Strauss implying? That she gets off on putting herself in danger?

"An agent with a hero complex is the last thing the Bureau needs."

"With all due respect, ma'am, the decision was Agent Hotchner's," Leighton answers, her tone more offensive that she intended. She checks herself, realizing that losing her temper won't get her anywhere; if anything it could get her suspended. "If he had told me otherwise I would have followed his orders. I do _not_ have a hero complex."

"Yet this is the second time your name has made the San Francisco headlines."

"I didn't ask for that the first time." Leighton sighs. "And in case I need to point this out to you, ma'am, I paid dearly for my recklessness." Strauss already knows this, Leighton catches herself thinking, Strauss knows the Mumford case to the very last detail because four years ago she was in this exact same room explaining everything. So what is she angling for?

"So you agree you were reckless?" Strauss asks. She's not looking to implicate Leighton in anything, but she has to know that her agents can keep their head in the game even when things get a little personal. This woman in front of her is not the same rookie agent she faced four years ago, but there's still something of the girl inside her.

"Four years ago, yes, but I was young," Leighton says. "I've learned a lot since then."

"But have you learned enough?"

No, Leighton thinks, she's still prone to letting her emotions get the best of her, but the team has learned to read her so well that they always stop her from doing anything stupid. Most of the time. "I don't believe Agent Hotchner would have let me join his team if I hadn't."

* * *

><p><strong>(San Francisco)<strong>

He doesn't know why the guards come and take him out of his cell. He's been locked up in solitary going on two weeks now, no television, and no contact with the outside world whatsoever. Even the guards, who were usually detached from running the same routines day-in day-out paid special attention not to deviate from that routine. Before this he was able to pry information from them sometimes, make casual conversation, or even bum a cigarette, but it seemed that special treatment was over now.

"Where are we going?" Mumford asks, but once again receives no answer from either of the guards accompanying him. Maybe it's his lawyer, he thinks, coming to inform him that the last loose strand in his investigation had been eliminated. Oh, the sweet joy that would bring him, knowing Leighton Tanner, that self-righteous cow, was six feet under alongside Sylvia Burke. It won't do anything to help his case, there's nothing that can do that, but at least he'll die knowing he won.

The guards deposit him in a barred hallway, between the cellblock and the section reserved for solitary confinement; he's surrounded by bars on all sides. He's had a few drive-by meetings with his lawyer here in the past few months, the man was just checking up on him out of some misplaced sense of duty, but hadn't bothered to show up when those BAU agents came to interrogate him. But then he really cherished the time he got to spend alone with Tanner.

Part of him will miss her; he'll miss knowing she's out there carrying his gift with her, the scar torturing her, haunting her in the sleep. He'd asked Charles to take his time with her, because she was special, because she needed to pay for what she did, stop his work before it could be finished. He'd even asked him to take pictures. Thank God Charles had found him when he had.

But when he hears the door on the other side of the bars open, just around the corner, he doesn't hear the tap of boots or any shoes his lawyer would wear. He hears a woman's heels tap steadily closer, until he can see them coming around the corner, black heeled boots, underneath dark grey trousers. _Tanner_.

"Hello, Nick," Leighton says, walking over to where he's standing behind the bars, hands now clenched around them. "When I handcuffed Charles Baker I told him to say hi from me." Mumford's eyes grow darker at hearing her words. "But seeing as you'll be spending the rest of what remains of your life in solitary confinement, I thought I'd come myself."

"You just couldn't wait to see me again, could you, Tanner?"

Leighton leans in closer. "The next time we see each other, _Nick_, I will watch you die," she sneers, feeling her heart fill up with hate for what he did to five innocent women, what he did to Sylvia twice, and what he did to her. What he will always do to her. She can see his right eye twitch at her words, and even though it's only a small sign, she accepts it as a victory.

Mumford doesn't say anything else, but his knuckles turn white where he's grabbing onto the metal bars.

Leighton turns, and walks away breathing, even if her left hand is still clutched into a tight fist. She guesses it's a small price to pay for surviving Mumford a second time. After coming here every week for pretense sake, the prison walls have lost their menacing effect on her.

Reid's right outside waiting for her. Leighton takes him by the hand, lacing their fingers together. He smiles at her, and Leighton smiles back freely, realizing she never could have done this without him. It wasn't just Reid, the team helped her through this just as much, but Leighton thinks she'll always credit Reid with most of the effort.

On the plane back to DC Morgan falls asleep all but immediately.

Leighton snickers when she sees him stretched out on the long couch on one side of the aisle. She's more than grateful that Morgan volunteered to stay behind for her; she's lucky to have such great friends. "You'd think he was the one who spent the past two weeks fearing for his life," she says, walking over to the table with two cups of tea.

Reid looks up at her in surprise. "You spent it fearing for your life?" he asks, eyes wide.

Leighton wrinkles her nose. "No," she admits, and sits down next to him. "I knew you had my back." She looks back over her shoulder, but Morgan still seems fast asleep. Leighton smiles, and pulls her legs up under her, settling her head down on Reid's shoulder.

Reid smiles to himself, not in the least bothered by Leighton's clear show of affection, and kisses her forehead. He's missed her, and their time spent apart – the most in almost four months time – made him realize just how much of a constant Leighton has become in his life. A constant he never wants to let go again.

* * *

><p><strong>if you can, please let me know what you think!<strong>


	21. I Hate This Part Right Here

**author's notes:** me and my big mouth had to go and talk about an epilogue chapter! a lot still has to happen before i reach that stage, i'm thinking at least another 5 to 7 chapters, but with me you never really know and it could be more. i just like knowing where a story is headed rather than frantically coming up with new things, it's how i roll. hope you all enjoy the new chapter! THANK YOU for all the lovely reviews/comments and the new alerts, and special kudos to my bestie **Inwenalas** for her ever-growing enthusiasm :)

**all the parts in this chapter take place on a different day!**

**characters:** Reid/Leighton (OC), Morgan, Seaver, Rossi, Hotch, Garcia, JJ

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

><p><strong>SCARS REMIND US WHERE WE'VE BEEN;;<strong>

****chapter twenty  
><strong>**

* * *

><p><strong>(1)<strong>

**date:** June 4th, 2012

At first, he's not sure what wakes him up. Maybe it was the light of the alarm clock, or simply Leighton moving in the bed. But when he closes his eyes again, attempting to go back to sleep, he can feel Leighton pulling at the sheets and mumbling to herself in her sleep. Most of the time it's nonsense, little sounds she makes at whatever haunts her in her dreams. Other times she'll call out Mumford's name, Sylvia's name, or even his. Sometimes she screams.

Before what happened in San Francisco Leighton's nightmares weren't all that bad, he'd even noticed they decreased in frequency whenever he stayed over, and Leighton seemed to have found a way to deal with them. But now they're getting worse every night.

"_No_," Leighton mumbles, and turns in the bed, her head thrashing. He remembers this, these violent dreams, the same he had after being kidnapped and tortured by Tobias Hankel. His earlier nightmares were nothing compared to those night terrors. He'd found his solace in Dilaudid back then, cancelling out the nightmares overnight, a sweet release from his demons. But not a solution.

"_No!_" Leighton almost shouts, and Reid turns on his side to look at her. What he wouldn't give to help her with this, what he wouldn't do to help Leighton fight her demons, but he knows something's got to give before Leighton will allow him to do that. He just hopes it doesn't come at the cost of something they both hold dear. Reid reaches out a hand and brushes Leighton's hair from her eyes, but she turns her back to him the moment his fingers touch her skin. He sighs, laying back in the bed, but he can't stand to listen to this; waking Leighton up would be an easy solution, but now that's she's actually sleeping, it doesn't seem fair.

He glances over at the clock. Another two hours before the alarm goes off. Reid gets up, and takes a quick shower. When he's gathering his clothes in the bedroom Leighton is still struggling with the sheets, but it's calmer.

Two hours later the alarm clock wakes Leighton from a dead sleep, but she can feel she didn't get much quality sleep at all. It's been like this for a week now, ever since coming back from San Francisco, and it's only getting worse. She's not surprised to see Reid's already up.

"You're already dressed," Leighton says when she emerges from the bedroom.

"I've been up for a while," Reid answers, putting an empty bowl in the kitchen sink.

Leighton walks over to him, and kisses him, touching a hand to his cheek. "I'm sorry," she whispers, because she knows why he's up, she knows what keeps them both from catching much needed sleep.

"It's okay," Reid says, and kisses her forehead. It crosses Leighton's mind that she doesn't deserve Reid—she doesn't deserve his patience, or his kindness. Leighton puts some bread in the toaster and sits down at the kitchen table. "Your nightmares are getting worse again," Reid says, pouring them both a cup of tea.

Leighton rubs her eyes wearily. That's putting it lightly, she thinks, her nightmares haven't been this bad in four years. "I know," she sighs.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Reid asks carefully, placing the cup on the table in front of her.

Leigh looks up at him, folding her hands around her teacup. "Not really, no."

* * *

><p><strong>(2)<strong>

**date:** June 8th, 2012

He's lost count of the amounts of time he's arrived at work and walked in on Reid making coffee. Today's no different. "Late night?" Morgan asks, watching Reid pour a quart of sugar in his coffee.

"Early start," Reid corrects, because he knows where Morgan's mind goes when he says things like that— but he's not in any mood to joke around. Leighton and him had both slept in their own bed last night so he could catch up on some sleep, but his worry for her had pretty much kept him up all night. "Leighton keeps—" he starts. "Her nightmares are getting pretty bad."

Morgan looks at Reid, brow creasing in concern. He knows that for Reid to open up to him about this it has to be pretty serious. "Did you ask her about it?" Morgan asks. He remembers the first time Reid spoke to him about his nightmares, years ago. It's amazing how far they've both come since then.

"Yeah, I tried." Reid shrugs. "But she keeps shutting me out."

"Sounds like someone else I know," Morgan answers, but when it gets him a snide glance from Reid he checks himself. It's true though; Reid's never been forthcoming about his feelings either. "Look, I don't know Leighton the way you do, but next time—try a little more force," Morgan says. Unlike Reid, Leighton doesn't have the tendency to shut down when asked again. In this case, however, he can understand why it's harder. "She's been through a lot and she needs to deal with it. With any luck you'll be the person she opens up to."

"But how do I get her to open up?" Reid asks, because that's the real problem. He's _tried_, but whenever he does Leighton ignores his pleas, even though he suspects she's struggling with something other than just what happened in San Francisco.

"I can't answer that for you." Morgan shakes his head, but sympathizes with Reid. He tried to have that conversation once with Emily, not long before she died, and she'd shut him down too. He should have been more forceful with her, even though he imagines Emily would have been stubborn as hell. "Like I said, you know her better than anyone."

Reid nods, returning his focus to his coffee.

Morgan leaves him to ponder their conversation while he makes his way to the bullpen. Seaver's already at her desk, going over some paperwork.

"Morning," she says, barely looking up at him.

"Hey," Morgan says. "Where's Leighton?" he asks, dropping a file on Leighton's desk. He was hoping to ask her for some help in his investigation of Doyle, only because it might get her mind of things.

Seaver stops what she's doing and leans back in her chair. "She's not here yet," she answers. She only shares another glance with Morgan, because Reid joins them, but she knows they're both thinking the same thing. It's the first time in a very long time Reid and Leighton haven't arrived together. She doesn't know why, as far as their work interactions go they've been fairly normal.

"Could you tell her I'm looking for her?" Morgan asks.

Both Reid and Seaver look up at him. "Sure," Seaver answers.

* * *

><p><strong>(3)<strong>

**date:** June 13th, 2012

From his office Rossi can hear Leighton, Ashley and Reid engaged in lively conversation. He laughs to himself, not surprised when he hears the words _Star Trek_ coming out of Reid's mouth and Leighton immediately picking up on whatever argument he's making about it. It's remarkable how easily they avoid it, Rossi thinks, how Reid and Leighton can hide their problems while both of them know they're the main gossip among the other team members. Maybe not _gossip_ per se, but they're both clever enough to know there's little they can hide from the team.

Leighton's right outside his door before he realizes. "Fax came in for you," she says, and hands him the paper, hugging another folder to her chest.

"Thanks," Rossi says, and almost lets her walk away without a word, but he reconsiders. Someone has to say it. "You know we're all here if you want to talk," Rossi says, watching Leighton turn around slowly.

She stares down at her feet for countless of moments, until she looks up to meet his eyes. "I'm not very good at talking," she admits.

Rossi smiles. It's a problem Reid and her seem to share. Reid's has been ingrained in him since childhood, since his father walked away leaving him to fend for himself. Leighton's is psychological as well, but much more recent. It's strange that it should be Leighton having the most difficulty opening up. "You understand the irony in that, right?" he jokes.

Leighton laughs. "I meant about myself?" she says, and Rossi can't help but think how much she sounds like Reid. "And right now I'm—" Leighton struggles to find the right word, or maybe it's more than that. Maybe she's wondering if she should open up to him at all. "I'm angry."

"That's understandable."

"Did you—" Leighton hesitates, and he can see her struggle again. "Did you ever talk to your wives? About the job?" Leighton asks, and Rossi finally realizes what this is really about. She wants to be able to talk to Reid, and he can see why Leighton thinks that could be a problem. It's one thing to open up to a counselor, difficult in its own right, but not someone she'd see on a daily basis. It's something else to talk to a profiler, who's not only her boyfriend, but also her colleague.

"I think the problem was that I didn't talk to them about much of anything," Rossi answers, but knows he's avoiding a straight answer. In his earliest BSU days there were only counselors to talk to, he didn't have a team. "And none of them were FBI agents."

Leighton nods, mostly to herself. "I know I have to talk to Spence," she says. "I just— He doesn't deserve me getting angry with him."

Rossi's afraid that might be the least of her problems. "If you keep this up it'll only get worse."

"I know." Leighton sighs.

She knocks on the door to Hotch's office out of habit; it's open most of the time during the day. Hotch looks up from his papers. "My report," Leighton says, walking over to his desk and dropping the folder on top of a suspiciously small stack of paper work. The stack of files on her own desk is considerably larger, but she knows that's because her focus is off.

"Thanks," Hotch says, looking at her as she turns. "Leighton." Leighton turns around to face him. "Is Strauss giving you a hard time?" Hotch asks. It's been almost two weeks since the debriefing, but he's seen Strauss at Leighton's desk several times since then.

"She's—No," Leighton answers and shakes her head. "She made a valid request, and—I'm just considering my options."

Hotch nods. "Good," he says, but knows that in very few words Leighton told him more than she's told others on the team, perhaps even Reid. He's not sure Reid knows Strauss asked Leighton to go into counseling again. But from Leighton's careful albeit calculated response he gathers she's considering talking about what happened during those two weeks she'd spend alone in San Francisco. He hopes she talks to Reid first, and adds counseling only if it's necessary.

* * *

><p><strong>(4)<strong>

**date:** June 18th, 2012

Leighton pushes the door open so violently it almost gets knocked off its hinges. Reid follows behind her fast, hoping the owner of the tavern doesn't follow to threaten them with a lawsuit. It had taken Leighton all but five minutes to lose her temper when faced with the hostile witness.

"Are you okay?" Reid asks, running after her.

Leighton sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. "Reid," she starts, realizing too late she probably should have called him Spence to convince him she's okay. She looks at him, but she's still angry. Something's been happening to her for a while now and she can't pinpoint what it is. "God knows I love you, but you have _got_ to stop asking me that." Leighton takes a deep breath and comes to a halt in front of the car. "I'm _fine_," she stresses.

"No, you are not," Reid says, louder than he'd intended, but he's suddenly reminded of what Morgan told him. Maybe he has to use a little more force. "Leigh, I'm really worried about you." He sighs. "You— You're avoiding eye contact, you've been tightly wound for weeks." He watches as Leighton casts down her eyes, retreating back into her shell, crossing her arms over her chest. "And you keep flexing the fingers in your left hand."

"Don't psycho-analyze me, Spence," Leighton says without looking at him. "Not me."

"Then talk to someone. Talk to me. _Anyone_," he pleads. But Leighton is still avoiding eye contact. "Before someone else starts noticing," Reid adds. Leighton looks up at him but doesn't say anything; she knows everyone on the team has already noticed, they've just allowed it because they all know she needs room to deal with things.

Leighton turns and gets into the car. Reid sighs and takes a deep breath; he tells himself he needs to take this one step at a time, being _too_ forcible will only push Leighton further away, but all they're doing right now is going back and forth. It's very frustrating. When Reid gets into the car Leighton's hands are around the steering wheel, but she makes no move for the keys already in the ignition.

Reid looks at her, but allows for the silence; Leighton's clearly thinking something over. "I will," she says softly, and Reid frowns. "Talk to someone," Leighton adds, and looks at him. "It's just—" She averts her eyes. "I want to be able to talk to you."

Is that what she's been working up to, Reid wonders, but can't find himself saying anything. He wants that more than anything, for Leighton to talk to him, and now is the first time he realizes this isn't about him—he's more than willing to listen, but Leighton has to be willing to share first. Maybe that's what it means to be really close to someone.

"So you love me, hu?" he jokes, more than anything in an attempt to lighten the mood. He doesn't expect Leighton to start talking to him right now.

When Leighton doesn't say anything he looks at her. Leighton's already looking at him. "Yeah," Leighton says, her voice tinged with surprise, like somehow he should have figured that out already. Leighton smiles. "I kinda do," she adds, and this time she doesn't release his eyes.

Reid smiles at her, only looking away when Leighton starts the car.

* * *

><p><strong>(5)<strong>

**date:** June 22nd, 2012

The moment Leighton enters the Batcave Kevin jumps five feet high and drops his donut in his lap. Leighton laughs, but Garcia knows she's used to this by now. "Hey, Kevin," Leighton says, smiling, handing Garcia a stack of folders that need to be digitized.

"Hey—y, Agent Tanner," Kevin smiles awkwardly and gets up unevenly, staggering back on his feet.

"Kevin, calm down," Leighton says. "And it's Leighton."

"I—should get back to work," Kevin says, looking at Garcia once before turning and leaving her office.

Leighton frowns. "What was that about?" she asks, leaning back against Garcia's desk.

"Ah, it's nothing." Garcia waves it off, mostly because Kevin and her were discussing private details of certain parts of their life no one else had to know about. No wonder Kevin had jumped. "You should see his reaction to Morgan," Garcia says, hoping to change the subject.

"_That_ might actually be jealousy," Leighton answers, and crosses her arms over her chest. "Possibly intimidation." Leighton nods, but mostly to herself. "By the way, are you helping Morgan with his Doyle investigation?"

"I'm—Yes," Garcia answers, instantly realizing that she walked into that with her eyes open. She knows Morgan was thinking about asking Leighton for help as well, but in the end he hadn't; Morgan wanted her to figure out her own problems before worrying about anything else. But clueing Leighton in can't do any harm. "We're looking for Declan, Doyle's son."

Leighton nods her approval, but doesn't ask anything else about Doyle. "Doesn't it—" Leighton starts, and curses her sudden hesitation. "Does it bother you that you can't tell Kevin?"

"He knows," Garcia answers, her eyes wide, surprised by the sudden turn the conversation has taken. "Keeping that a secret from him would kill me."

Leighton sinks away in thought for a few moments, but she quickly composes herself and gets up. JJ enters the Batcave as well, crossing Leighton on her way out. "Oh hey, we got a new case," JJ says. "We're just waiting for Reid."

"He's on his way now," Leighton answers, and leaves the room.

"They arrived separately again?" Garcia asks, after staring at the door long enough to make sure Leighton wasn't coming back in. "You don't think they broke up, do you?"

"No," JJ answers sternly, but knows how unsure she sounds. She'd be surprised if they broke up, because that would have showed in their interactions, but she wouldn't put it beyond them to keep it quiet either. "I'm sure they would have told us," she amends, hoping to put Garcia's mind at ease, but they both know Reid and Leighton too well.

"Oh God," Garcia pouts. "I'm not sure I can go through that again."

JJ snickers. "I'm sure they're fine," she says, placing a comforting hand on Garcia's shoulder. In truth, she has no idea what will happen with Reid and Leighton if they keep ending up here, if one of them keeps shutting down whenever something traumatic happens to the other. "Conference room in twenty," she adds, leaving Garcia to her work.

Reid is just getting off the elevator when she reaches the end of the hallway. "Hey," he says. "I just got your text."

"You're just in time." JJ smiles, holding the doors to the bullpen open for him; he's carrying what she assumes is a cup of coffee and a cup of tea. "Is everything okay between you and Leighton?" she asks, the words out of her mouth beyond her control. Reid turns and frowns at her. "You usually carpool," JJ explains.

"Oh," Reid exclaims. "I uhm— I needed to get some sleep," he says, and frowns to himself.

JJ understands. They really do end up here time and time again. "And did you?" she asks.

Reid quirks his mouth. "Not really."

* * *

><p><strong>(6)<strong>

**date:** June 29th, 2012

It feels like she's been running twenty miles an hour when she opens her eyes. Her heart is hammering in her chest, and she's sweating, images of her dream still playing out lively in front of her. Leighton has her back turned to Reid, so she's not sure if she woke him up, but it wouldn't surprise her if she had. She gets up without looking back over her shoulder, to avoid any more guilty feelings, and maybe to avoid the same old _are you okay_ question.

She gets a glass of water in the kitchen, hoping it will remedy the sourness in her throat, and then decides to settle in the living room, sitting down on one of the sofa's arms. Reid's glasses are on the coffee table, and for some reason seeing them brings tears to her eyes. This has been coming on for a few weeks now. She hates this, feeling like she's out of control, forcing herself to keep everything locked inside to get some semblance of control, but really it's doing the exact opposite. Maybe counseling isn't such a bad idea.

The floorboards creak behind her.

"I woke you up again," Leighton says, a tear running down her cheek.

A short silence follows. "Come back to bed," Reid says softly.

A sob rips through Leighton's body, and she doesn't even try to hold it back. "I can't," she cries, and shakes her head. "I can't keep doing this." As soon as the words leave her mouth she fears Reid might misinterpret her meaning, but she's not talking about them, she could never give that up again, but she knows she'll destroy them if she keeps silent. The rest of the team's already convinced it's almost over.

"I used to uh—dream about this baby," Reid says suddenly. A beat follows, and Leighton forces herself to calm down. "Sometimes it was a boy, other times it was a girl." Leighton shifts on the sofa, turning so she can look at Reid. "He was in the middle of a circle, and I tried to—I tried to get to him before something bad happened."

Reid looks at her carefully, trying to gauge her emotional state, but it's difficult to determine once Leighton averts her eyes again. "I can't—" Leighton wipes at her face and takes a deep breath. "I never used to do this." She shakes her head, picking at her nails. It never used to be so hard to talk about her feelings, she did that quite easily with her parents and her siblings. "He took that away from me."

Reid knows she's talking about Mumford. More than anything he knows she's talking about trust. Trusting someone to trust her judgment, trusting someone with her pain. After Tobias he didn't trust anyone, he resorted to drugs and he paid for that dearly. He sits down on the sofa, waiting patiently for Leighton to say more.

"In my dreams—" Leighton starts, "I can't move." She pushes the words out one by one, hoping to keep her anger out of his, her _hate_, because Reid doesn't deserve that. Leighton sucks in her bottom lip, biting back her grief. "I'm always on that floor, forced to hear her scream."

It was never about the pain; back in the hospital the pain was the only thing that told her she was still alive. But the paralysis, bleeding out on Mumford's living room floor for hours, hearing Sylvia scream downstairs, that was the real torture. That was her biggest demon. There was even a point during her recovery where she couldn't stand her nephews tackling her down to the floor because the feeling of not being able to move got her so anxious that she just started screaming. It wasn't too long after that she met Reid.

Leighton slides down to the sofa, still not looking at Reid, but she leans back against him, Reid's arms circling around her. "And ever since she died—It's only getting worse."

"You haven't grieved her properly," Reid says. "You spent two weeks waiting for her killer to show up, but you forced yourself to stay strong."

Leighton sighs, pulling her knees up to her chest. "And now my subconscious is kicking my ass," she says.

Reid smiles to himself, careful Leighton doesn't notice. It's not exactly how he would up it, but Leighton's right. She's not dealing with it, but her dreams are telling her she should. He hopes this was the first step towards her recovery.

"Do you still have the dream?" Leighton asks, letting her head fall back on his shoulder.

Reid swallows hard, but it's probably best to stick with the truth. "Sometimes," he answers, but leaves out the part where he has other nightmares, about losing Emily, about losing Leighton even.

"I suppose they never really go away," Leighton muses. She turns, cradling close to Reid's body, putting her arms around him as best as she can. "Thanks for listening to me," she whispers.

"Always."**  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>if you can, please let me know what you think!<strong>


	22. A Girl In A Fantasy

**author's notes:** WOW, you guys are the best! so many stunning comments :) THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH! welcome to all my new readers, and thank you all for letting me know how much you're enjoying this story. that said, i hope you enjoy this chapter more than i enjoyed writing it =/ had a tough week. special thanks to my salvager, bestie and beta **Inwenalas**.

**characters:** Reid/Leighton (OC), JJ, Seaver, Hotch, Rossi, Jessie (OC), Eric Johnson (OC), Morgan, mention of Garcia and Peter Todd (OC)

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

><p><strong>SCARS REMIND US WHERE WE'VE BEEN;;<strong>

****chapter twenty-one  
><strong>**

* * *

><p><strong>(1)<strong>

**date:** August 8th, 2012

It's almost painful how normal she looks. No one would guess that the little girl behind the glass, currently being interviewed by Seaver and Leighton, had been the victim of systematic psychological and physical abuse. Her clothes are brand-new, as was everything surrounding her when they'd found her hidden away in her father's house, she was well nourished, and to the outside world she probably seemed like any other six-year old.

But her eyes can't hide anything. They don't hide the pain, or the fear that her father, the UnSub, will return to find her. Poor girl, JJ thinks, her mother gone and her father a serial killer. How does anyone recover from that, especially at such a young age? JJ finds herself thinking of Henry suddenly, and the endless conversations – sometimes fights – she's been having with Will.

Behind her the door opens, and Reid joins her from the other room. "Here," he says, handing JJ a fresh cup of coffee. He knows reporters are pouring into the pressroom right now, and that JJ will need to go soon, but she looks like she could use some caffeine.

"Thanks." JJ smiles at him in gratitude, but quickly returns her attention to the little girl in the other room. "She looks so normal," JJ says. "Just another normal little girl." She looks up at Reid. "What are the chances it stays that way?"

"With the right kind of therapy and the right care it's highly likely." Reid nods. He looks at JJ, so focused on their young victim, but he can tell there's more bothering her. JJ's been tense for the past few days. "Everything okay?" he asks, hoping he comes across as concerned, rather than prying.

"I—" JJ sighs, and takes a deep breath. She knows better than to lie to Reid. "Will's been on my case about working too hard," JJ answers, and shrugs. Coming back to the BAU was absolutely the right decision for her, she can do much more with this team, do more _good_, and save little girls like Jessie. But is it right to have that come at the cost of her own family? "And he's right," JJ adds. "Any day now Henry won't recognize me anymore."

"You know that's not true," Reid answers, his voice soft, but he knows how he can talk to JJ. "You're a great mother, JJ."

JJ looks up at him, and smiles. She knows she's probably being a little too dramatic, but she's tired, and it really doesn't hurt to hear it from time to time.

Rossi joins them in the room. "They're ready for you," he says, and JJ shoots in action. She has to go tell the press about Jessie's father, Peter Todd, and the potential danger he could pose.

As JJ exits the room, Leighton emerges from the interview room.

Rossi looks inside the precinct's family room, normally a place for victim's families to wait for news, but it's now occupied by Jessie Todd – putting her in an interrogation room would have only alienated her further. Now Jessie sits on the ground behind a low coffee table, the table littered with papers full of childlike scribbling. Seaver sits on the sofa behind Jessie, talking to her softly.

"How's it going in there?" Rossi asks.

"It's not easy." Leighton sighs. "It's hard enough to go through this as an adult, but a child?"

"How's Ashley doing?"

"Okay, considering the circumstances," Leighton answers. She looks at Seaver, wondering exactly how much of her real emotions she's holding back right now, whether she's screaming inside. It can't be easy for Seaver to look at Jessie and see what she could have been, what could have happened to her if her father Charles Beauchamp hadn't hidden his dark side from the rest of his family.

Before Leighton gets the chance to say anything more, Seaver joins them as well.

"She's still not talking much," Seaver says. "And she keeps drawing the same thing." Seaver hands one of the drawings to Reid.

"Hu," Reid huffs, studying the drawing closely. A young girl, dressed in white, a circlet crown running across her forehead, dominates the right side of the page. It immediately reminds him of a story he once read. "It looks like the Childlike Empress."

Seaver, Rossi and Leighton exchange confused looks, and then all look at Reid for an explanation. "The what?" Seaver asks.

"It's a character from _The Neverending Story_," Reid explains, and points at the figure to the right side of the paper. "This is what she looks like in the movie."

"What are you thinking?" Leighton asks.

"What if she's cast herself in the same role?" Reid frowns, thinking aloud – either way, his colleagues will need more information. "In the book the Childlike Empress is the ruler of Fantasia, a world that only exists in the imagination of other children, kept alive by that imagination. In the movie she waits to be rescued in an ivory tower."

"She's distancing herself from her abuse," Seaver says.

Leighton crosses her arms over her chest. "Can't say I blame her."

"Who do you think she's waiting for to save her?" Seaver asks, and grows fearful. Her father is the only person in Jessie's life—according to Jessie's teacher she doesn't have many friends. "Not her father?"

"It's possible," Rossi says, hands in his pockets. "She might have cast him in the part of the hero just to protect herself."

"Poor kid," Seaver says. More than ever she understands Leighton's aversion to working cases involve children. But it goes even deeper for her. That little girl could have been her. "Are we sure we should get her to talk about this?" she asks. "There's a reason she's created this world for herself."

Reid nods, but mostly to himself. "As long as we remain within the boundaries of the fantasy it should be safe," he answers.

In the next room the press conference has come to an end, and the rest of the team joins them.

"Do we really think he'll resurface?" Seaver asks, her question directed at no one in particular.

"It's worth a shot," Hotch answers. "We have to cover all our bases. Where are we with the little girl?" he asks.

"She's disassociated herself from the entire situation," Leighton answers. "It's going to take some time."

"You three stay on that," Hotch orders. "Dave, I want you to talk to the aunt when she gets here. The rest of us will deliver the profile. We can't waste any time on this." Normally he'd want his entire team present when they present the profile, but their time is running out. Their UnSub knows they're onto him; he might not even be in town anymore.

Everyone leaves again to fulfill their perspective tasks, while Leighton and Seaver re-enter the interview room to talk to the little girl. Reid stays behind the window to observe.

"Hi, Jessie," Leighton says, approaching the table with Seaver by her side. "Do you mind if we join you?" Leighton asks, but Jessie doesn't react, she just keeps drawing. "My name is Leighton, and this is Ashley," Leighton adds, Seaver and her both sitting down on the sofa behind Jessie. Jessie herself is sitting on her knees, elbows resting on the coffee table while she keeps drawing.

Jessie looks to her left, at Seaver, but shows little expression. "You're pretty," she says.

"Thank you." Seaver smiles, and sits to mirror Jessie's position on the floor. "Jessie, this girl in the picture." Seaver points at the figure to the right. "Is that you?" Jessie nods. "And who is this?" Seaver asks, pointing at a tiny black background figure to the left side of the picture.

Jessie averts her eyes and starts drawing again. "Someone that's coming to save me," she answers, her voice small and shaky.

"Does he have a name?" Seaver asks.

Jessie shakes her head. "But he saved my mommy. He'll save me too."

Seaver looks at Leighton over Jessie's head; thank God her hero isn't her father. They're both thinking it, but neither says it out of fear that Jessie might shut down. "Jessie," Leighton starts, deciding to take over from Seaver. If Seaver can talk to her calmly, perhaps it's best Leighton asks the tougher questions, a milder version of the good-cop bad-cop routine. "What if I told you we could find him for you?"

Jessie shakes her head again, retreating further into her fantasy. "No," she begs, pressing a black crayon harder to the page. "The Nothing will get him."

Leighton looks at the dark clouds at the top of the drawing. "The dark smoke?" she asks.

Jessie nods, tears running down her cheeks, but she doesn't stop drawing. "It'll hurt him like it hurt me."

Both Leighton and Seaver come to the same understanding. The dark smoke is her father.

"Jessie, it's okay," Seaver says, and puts an arm around Jessie protectively. The black crayon escapes Jessie's fingers. She hangs her head, and starts crying. "We're not going to let anything happen to you, okay? The Nothing will _never_ hurt you again, you hear me?" Jessie throws her arms around Seaver and cries on her shoulder. It takes Seaver by surprise, but she doesn't let go of Jessie.

Leighton gets up, and quietly leaves the room.

"What's the Nothing?" Leighton asks Reid, keeping her voice down just in case, and crosses her arms over her chest. She's grateful for Reid for a great many things, but out in the field she'll never be more grateful for his mind.

"It's a metaphor for the loss of creative imagination," Reid answers. "In the story only a human child can restore Fantasia. I guess she's recast the role with someone who she believes helped her mom in the past."

Leighton nods. "Maybe a Doctor where the mother got treated?" Jessie's mother had died of cancer when Jessie was four years old—it was a long time ago for her to still remember anything, but it was worth a shot.

"I called Garcia," Reid says, already ahead of the game. "She'll get back to us."

Leighton smiles. "Thanks," she says, and goes back inside.

Jessie's still cradled in Seaver's arms, but she turns to look at Leighton. "Who were you talking to?" she asks.

Leighton looks back at Reid over her shoulder. Reid had said to stay within the boundaries of Jessie's fantasy. Maybe placing herself and Seaver into that fantasy will get Jessie to open up. "My Prince," Leighton answers, looking down at Jessie.

The little girl's eyes go wide. "You're a Princess?"

"Well," Leighton starts, going to her knees on the other side of the table. "My mommy always says that _all_ little girls are Princesses," Leighton says. "And sometimes I still need saving."

Jessie eyes her suspiciously. "From what?" she asks.

Leighton exchanges a careful look with Seaver, but decides to keep working with this scenario. "My friends and I, we fight the Nothing," Leighton answers. "We capture it, and make sure it doesn't hurt anyone else."

"And right now we need your help, Jessie," Seaver chimes in, picking up on Leighton's line of questioning. "If you know where we can find the Nothing you can tell us. You'll be perfectly safe."

"It won't hurt me?" Jessie asks, looking up at Seaver.

"Cross my heart," Seaver answers, and smiles softly.

When Jessie answers with a few possible locations Leighton looks up at Reid, who immediately makes a grab for his cellphone, and disappears into another room to tell the others.

"He doesn't look like a Prince," Jessie says suddenly, forcing Leighton to look back at her.

Leighton laughs. "Princes come in a lot of different disguises," she answers. "Besides, _my_ Prince has read libraries full of books. He's the cleverest boy I've ever met."

* * *

><p><strong>(2)<strong>

**date:** August 9th, 2012

"I'm not sure I understand," Eric Johnson says, staring at the little girl in the next room being entertained by two other FBI agents. There are four others in the room with him now, but only two addressing the situation at hand.

"Jessie remembers you from the hospital," JJ answers, trying as best as she can to ease Doctor Johnson into this. Garcia had ended up calling every doctor that ever treated Jessie's mother. It had eventually led her to Eric Johnson. "In her mind you saved her mom when she was in a great deal of pain. And that's all she wanted herself. So she's made up a story where you're her hero."

Doctor Johnson shakes his head, completely overwhelmed.

"Look, we're not asking you to be her shrink," Morgan says. "Just have a conversation. It could really help her deal with her trauma."

"I can't believe she remembers me," Doctor Johnson says.

"You remember Jessie?" JJ asks.

"It's hard to forget a four-year old with a broken arm and a black eye," Eric Johnson answers. "I talked to my chief, but—there was nothing I could do."

"We understand that," Morgan says. "You don't have to do this now either."

"What do I—" Mr Johnson shakes his head. "What do I say to her?"

"What you would say to your own children," JJ says softly. "Whatever feels right. Jessie's going home with an aunt right now, but we'll set up a time and place for you to meet her."

Doctor Johnson nods. He takes a deep breath, and follows JJ outside. Morgan stays behind with Rossi and Leighton, who are taking down the pictures from the evidence boards.

"You ever regret not having kids?" Leighton asks, taking Jessie's picture down from the corkboard.

"Not really." Rossi shrugs. To be honest, he's never even given it much thought. He's always put the job first, before his wives, sometimes even before himself. Even if he'd had children, he wouldn't have been much of a father. Rossi looks at Leighton. Out of all of them that don't have children, he thinks Leighton's probably most likely to have children one day. Who that will be with, that's a question that remains to be answered. "How about you?" he asks.

"I'd be crazy not to, right?" Leighton asks. Rossi frowns at her in confusion. Leighton looks at Reid over her shoulder; he's in the main bullpen with Seaver. "Come on, our babies would be smart _and_ beautiful," Leighton jokes. She knows she's deflecting any real answer with humor, but Rossi hadn't exactly spelled out his answer either.

Not a single muscle moves in Rossi's face, he remains calm as usual when he answers. "I don't know," he says, following Leighton's gaze outside towards Reid. His eyes narrow on Reid. "I've never thought of Reid as _beautiful_."

Both Morgan and Leighton burst out laughing.

Out in the bullpen, Jessie walks over to Seaver and Reid, and tugs at Reid's cardigan. "Are you really a Prince?" Jessie asks, looking up at the tall man in front of her.

Reid blinks, and looks at Seaver, but she just smiles at him and gives no sign that she'll help him with this. Reid bends over to reach Jessie's eye level, and points at Leighton in the other room. "I'm _her_ Prince," he answers.

"And the smartest one?" Jessie asks, eyes wide.

Reid hesitates, looking up at Seaver for help again.

Seaver smiles. "Yeah, he is," she answers. Reid straightens himself out, and frowns to himself, feeling strangely self-conscious.

"I made this for you," Jessie says, and holds out a new drawing for Seaver. Seaver takes the paper, Jessie's previous rendering of the Childlike Empress at the center, with another girl next to her. "That's you!" Jessie smiles.

"It's beautiful." Seaver smiles. "Thank you so much."

Jessie takes a step closer and hugs Seaver around the waist. When she lets go, Jessie only smiles up at Seaver one last time, then makes her way to the other side of the room where her aunt is waiting. Seaver watches Jessie take her aunt's hand tentatively. After her dad got arrested she stayed with an aunt for a while. Her mother didn't come out of bed for days and her brother was too young to fully realize what was going on. But being around family, even if it was distant family, really helped her. She hopes the same is true for Jessie.

"You ever see yourself having any?" Seaver asks, leaning back against a desk, arms crossed over her chest.

Reid looks at Leighton again; she seems to be having an animated conversation with Rossi and Morgan in the other room. Emily once asked him the same thing, if he'd ever given any thought to having baby geniuses one day, but he hadn't gotten the chance to answer. He doesn't know what to answer Seaver now. He knows Leighton wants children one day, and if it's not with him it'll be with someone else. It's still as scary a question as when Emily asked it, the thought of his children having the same sort of life he had, the possibility of him passing on genetic imperfections.

He doesn't think it's an entirely out of line question, after all he'll be thirty-one soon, and Leighton turns thirty tomorrow. He just can't see it. Reid swallows hard, and casts down his eyes. "I'm not sure," he answers.

On the plane home, almost everyone decides to catch up on some much needed sleep. The past few days have been long and hard and it's getting close to midnight now. But not everyone manages to get to sleep.

"Not tired?" Reid asks, and looks at Leighton sitting across from him.

"Not really," she answers, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders. Cases with kids always get her thinking. She wants kids of her own one day, but knowing what she knows through this job, is it really justified? Her sister raises her children in a safe environment, even though her husband is a cop. But with the things they see at the BAU, the things that haunt them, will she ever be able to give a child everything it needs?

JJ's watch beeps to inform everyone it's midnight, and she turns next to Leighton, but doesn't wake up. No one wakes up. Reid gets up and goes into the kitchen, the small box he'd bought at the airport still hidden in a cupboard. He takes the cupcake out of the box, and puts a single candle on top of it. He lights it fast, and makes his way back to his seat.

"Happy birthday," Reid says, putting the cupcake down on the table between him and Leighton. He'd planned a more elaborated cake, but then the case had come up and he hadn't had the time to prepare. At least Garcia will have something ready for Leighton when they go out with the team tomorrow.

Leighton smiles, and looks at Reid. "Thank you," she says, grateful for the distraction. She's tired and cold; she shouldn't let negativity in so easily.

"Make a wish," Reid says, not once releasing Leighton's eyes.

Leighton thinks about it. What can she really wish for that she doesn't already have? Her job would never be termed enjoyable but it's something that she's good at, something that helps people, and that's something she's always wanted to achieve. She has her family to rely on, and she has Reid now too. What _can_ she wish for?

Leighton closes her eyes, blows the candle out, and wishes that if she ever has children, she can give them a Fantasia where there's no such thing as a Nothing.

* * *

><p><strong>if you can, please let me know what you think!<strong>


	23. Officer Down

**author's notes:** so sorry for the delay in update, i've been super busy and fangirling over a new cd. i hope you all enjoy the new chapter, i tried to make it intense and it's meant to keep you in suspense, and i purposely decided not to focus on the case too much! thank you all so much for sharing your thoughts on this story with me, it's so near and dear to me and Leighton's definitely become one of my favourite babies :) the chapter is unbeta'ed (**Inwenalas** is in Germany having Halloween fun for the two of us!), so any and all mistakes are mine!

**characters:** Reid/Leighton (OC), Rossi, Garcia, Hotch, JJ, Morgan, Seaver, mention of Kevin, Emily and Natalie (OC)

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

><p><strong>SCARS REMIND US WHERE WE'VE BEEN;;<strong>

****chapter twenty-two  
><strong>**

* * *

><p><strong>date: <strong>September 13th, 2012

**(1)**

She thinks any moment now her heart might give out from sheer terror. "Garcia, can you tell us anything about what happened?" Rossi's voice reaches over the line into her headset, a similar terror already suffusing his words.

Garcia takes a deep breath but it gets stuck somewhere halfway at the back of her throat. "I'm getting reports of a shooting involving officers." Her fingers have never worked the keys faster, eyes darting across words popping up on her screen. "No, wait, oh my God," she breathes, seeing the acronym 'FBI' caught right underneath her cursor. "Oh my God!"

"Garcia!" Hotch calls out, hoping his voice reaches the speaker on Rossi's phone. He doesn't want to yell at Garcia, but right now she's their only source of information.

"I'm sorry," Garcia says and takes another deep breath, but the urgency doesn't leave her voice. "But there were FBI agents involved."

Rossi's and Hotch's eyes meet briefly, but Hotch has to watch the road ahead, and they both need to keep a cool head. "Does it say who?" Hotch asks.

"No, sir," Garcia answers. "But I haven't been able to contact any of the others." Panic strikes her again. What if JJ or Reid got hurt? They were supposed to be visiting the call center, but what if the UnSubs followed them there? What if Seaver or Leighton got hurt? What if _Morgan_ got hurt? She can't do this again, not after everything. Just as she's about to break down completely she gets a call on another line. "Hang on," Garcia says, opening the line with one hard push of a button. "Who is this?" she asks, more rushed than usual.

"It's JJ." That means Reid is okay as well. _Oh God_, Garcia thinks as she connects all the lines. "Garcia, _what_ is going on?" JJ asks, coming to a halt in front of the car, Reid standing close so that he can listen in on the conversation.

"We're not sure yet, but there's been a shooting involving FBI agents," Garcia answers, choosing her words carefully to save time, but still giving JJ all the information she needs. "Rossi and Hotch are safe, they're on the line."

"What about the others?" JJ asks.

"No. I don't know." Garcia shakes her head, even though no one can see it. "I'm still trying their cells." Her fingers tap at the keys faster than she speaks. "Hang on, I found a transcript of the 911 call." No one on the line questions the legality of her statement. She reads through the transcript in silence, but when her eyes come to rest on two simple words, _officer down_, tears spring to her eyes and she almost loses her composure completely. "Oh God, someone was shot."

Reid and JJ look up at each other. "Who?" Reid asks. But the line goes silent. "Garcia, does it say who?" Reid asks again, stronger this time. They all know it's Seaver, Morgan or Leighton, and whatever part of him that's completely selfish hopes it's not Leighton. But he's well aware he can't stand losing anyone else either.

"No, I'm sorry," Garcia cries, tears streaming down her cheeks. "It doesn't say." She frantically searches her computer screen for more information, but fails to find any. "I can't—I can't find any more information." She panics, and takes off her glasses because her tears are obscuring her vision. This can't be happening, not again, not to them. They've been through enough.

"Garcia, calm—" JJ starts, but all she can hear is Garcia sobbing over the line. "Garcia, _calm down_," JJ presses. In any other situation she'd comfort Garcia, tell her everything will be okay, but everything is so uncertain right now and they have to focus. "Can you tell us what hospital they would have been taken to?"

"Oh yes, hang on," Garcia says, putting her glasses back on, even though they don't help much. Two seconds later she has the address and sends it to everyone's PDA.

"Reid and JJ, you head there now," Hotch orders. "Rossi and I will go to the scene. Keep us updated."

"Got it," JJ says, and hangs up, hurrying inside the car with Reid.

Rossi hangs up too, and the line goes dead. Garcia is left all alone and disconnected in her office. "Oh," she whimpers. She doesn't want to be alone right now, but she can't leave her office either; what if someone calls? So she does the one thing she can think off: she dials Kevin's number. When he picks up the phone her plea comes short but immediate: "Get over here. I need a hug."

* * *

><p><strong>(2)<strong>

When Hotch and Rossi pull up to the crime scene not twenty minutes later there's chaos all around. Whatever ambulances had been called were gone, which gives Hotch hope that whoever got shot was still in a condition to be taken to the hospital for care. But none of the others is on the scene either. Hotch writes it off, there was only one reported shot victim; maybe the others had minor injuries that needed attending.

There are crime scene investigators crawling all over the place, picking up shell casings from the side of the road. Rossi and Hotch try their best to avoid stepping on any evidence, but a path has been cleared to the black Chevy Tahoe.

They notice the pool of blood on the ground at the same time— there are discarded bloody bandages, syringes and all kinds of medical equipment scattered on the ground – whoever got shot, the paramedics seemed to have worked on them pretty extensively.

"Any news from Garcia?" Hotch asks, unwilling to show his worry any other way. But he _is_ worried, more than ever, one of his agents got shot and by the looks of the car all of them were intended targets. It looks like a typical drive-by shooting, there are bullet holes covering the car from front to back, the windows all shattered, glass all over the street. He should praise himself lucky only one of his team members got seriously injured. But who?

"Nothing yet," Rossi answers.

A police officer approaches them. "Excuse me, sir, you can't be here," the officer in uniform says.

Hotch takes out his credentials and holds them out. "SSA Hotchner," he says. "FBI."

The police officer's lips form around an unspoken 'oh' but he composes himself. He undoubtedly knows FBI agents were involved in this shooting. "I'm sorry."

"Can you tell us what happened here?" Hotch asks, reluctant to waste any time on pleasantries or fights over whose jurisdiction this scene exactly is. He knows he's not technically allowed to investigate this, but to hell with it—one of his officers got shot, all of them an intended target, he'll be damned if he walked away now.

"From what we can tell the car came this way," the officer answers, pointing to his right. The shooter or shooters probably came around the corner, ambushing the car from its rear end. Morgan, Seaver and Leighton wouldn't even have seen it coming, "and started shooting the moment the Tahoe was in range."

"This doesn't make any sense," Rossi says, and frowns. "These guys use bombs to send their message, not bullets. Every one of their targets has involved an institution, it's been political."

"Maybe they're sending us a message," Hotch answers. Rossi looks at him sideways. "_We're not finished_."

Rossi looks away, staring at the car in silent contemplation. They shouldn't be here. He doesn't want to see this investigated by anyone else but them, but they should be at the hospital with the others. He can't bring himself to think about the others though, this team has become such a part of his life that they're family. And losing family is always the most painful experience there is.

Hotch looks around; he doesn't know what more they can do here. They should go to the hospital. But just then a CSI drags a dark-grey jacket from the ground, right next to the pool of blood. Hotch feels his heart drop to his stomach. _Leighton's or Seaver's_, he thinks. "Excuse me, could I see that for a moment?" Hotch asks, waiting for the CSI to search through the garment. The CSI digs something out, and puts it in a separate plastic bag before handing it to Hotch. They're FBI credentials.

Rossi joins him at his side, staring down at the wrapped up credentials now in Hotch's hands.

"They're Leighton's," Hotch says.

* * *

><p><strong>(3)<strong>

JJ races to the hospital as fast as is legally allowed, but her driving reflects her state of mind, braking last minute, cutting around corners fast, honking at uncooperative drivers. Reid and her all but leap from the car when they arrive at the hospital, jogging for the front desk.

"Hi. I'm Jennifer Jareau, I'm with the FBI," JJ addresses the nurse behind the desk, holding out her credentials. Reid's right behind her, his hands in his pockets, impatiently balancing from one foot to the other. "Some of our agents were brought in?"

"They're in the ER," the nurse answers. "Just down the hall to your right."

Reid takes off with no other thought in his mind but to find Leighton. He's beyond hoping, he's _praying _Leighton's okay. What will he do if it's Leighton who's hurt? He can't handle another heartbreak like that, not after Emily, not when Leighton is more important to him than Emily ever was.

"Spence!" JJ calls out after him, but his feet are carrying him down the hallway and he's not intent on stopping until he's located Leighton, Morgan or Seaver. "_Spence!_" JJ's voice is more urgent now, and he hears the heels of her boots tap rapidly on the linoleum floor.

When Reid reaches the admin desk in the ER, his sneakers screeching him to a halt, there's no one there to answer his questions. He looks around, his heart beating violently in his chest. He needs some answers, he needs them _fast_, before he freaks out completely and starts shouting at the whole room. But when he turns his head to the right, only then feeling JJ join him, he sees Leighton sitting on one of the beds lining the wall, separated from any other beds by a single green curtain.

"Leigh," Reid says, voice just above a whisper, and feels his eyes stinging with tears. _Thank God_, he thinks, even though he's not the praying kind, _she's alive_. Leighton's pants are torn at the knees, bloodstained, but he doesn't think all the blood is hers.

At the sound of her name Leighton looks up to meet his eyes, and he finds hers are tear shot as well. She doesn't say anything, there's a nurse stitching up her right hand, but she stretches her left out to him when he comes closer. He doesn't care who sees, he doesn't care where they are or that they're working a case. He's so overwhelmed and happy to see Leighton's okay that he puts his arms around her as soon as she's within his reach, hugging her close.

Leighton buries her face in his chest, her left hand clutching at his shirt at the back. _Thank God_, he thinks again, and kisses the top of her head.

JJ keeps a respectful distance until she realizes Reid has no intention of letting Leighton go. She doesn't blame him, and part of her is happy to see him show his affection for Leighton so openly, but Morgan and Seaver are nowhere in sight. One of them got shot, and she hates to think about either scenario. "Where's Morgan?" JJ asks.

Leighton leans back to look at JJ, but before she has to answer her question, they can all hear Morgan shouting profanities at one of the nurses a few beds further.

There's a part of all of them that wants to laugh, because it's so typically Morgan, but Leighton's still in shock, and Reid and JJ realize it's Seaver who got hurt. That still leaves them without information about her exact condition. Is she critical? And is she still in surgery?

"Ashley, she—" Leighton starts, but can't find the words. She knows Reid and JJ are here for information first, her personal wellbeing second. "We couldn't get to her," she says, looking up at Reid. He puts a hand on Leighton's cheek to reassure her, and then looks at JJ.

"I'll find out what I can," JJ says, and sets out to look for a nurse or a doctor who can tell them what's going on.

The nurse by Leighton's side finishes wrapping up her hand, and leaves Reid and Leighton alone. "Are you okay?" Reid asks, his heartbeat finally leveling out.

"Spooked more than anything," Leighton answers, and feels around for her pocket. She doesn't find it. "My jacket—" she says, and looks around the immediate area. Her jacket is nowhere in sight. And then it hits her. "I left it—" She left it on the ground next to the car. "My creds were in there."

"Hotch and Rossi are there now," Reid says, putting a hand on Leighton's other cheek too. "They'll get them for you."

Leighton nods and closes her eyes, sinking her forehead back down against Reid's chest.

* * *

><p><strong>(4)<strong>

"Who got hurt?" is the first question out of Garcia's mouth after she punches in the receiver on her phone. Her nerves are completely shot, her heart racing. She usually likes the distance her computer screens offer her, a distance both physical and emotional—she could never do the job her colleagues do and keep it together on a daily basis. But this is different, that same distance is completely alienating her now.

"Garcia—" JJ says, hoping to somewhat calm Garcia down before giving her the terrible news.

"Don't Garcia me, lay it on me," Garcia snaps. Can't JJ hear that this is killing her? That for all the information her screens can offer and all the information she can find out there, she's completely cut off now? "Who got hurt?" she reiterates.

"Ashley," JJ answers.

"Oh God," Garcia cries. "Is she—" She can't think it. She can't even say it.

"She's in surgery," JJ says. "She took two shots to the chest."

"Oh," Garcia squeaks.

"Morgan got grazed in the shoulder," JJ continues, because even though Garcia might not ask, she needs to hear that Morgan and Leighton are okay. "Leighton and him both have cuts and bruises, but nothing serious."

In the ER, Rossi and Hotch have joined the rest of the team. There's a nurse still digging shards of glass out of Leighton's knees, but she'd asked Rossi to interview her nonetheless, if anything to distract her. If he doesn't she'll be part of the waiting party, waiting to hear from the surgeons about Ashley, and Leighton's not sure she can handle that sort of anxiety right now.

Hotch is a few beds down, interviewing Morgan. Reid had reluctantly agreed to run to the motel and grab Morgan's and Leighton's go-bag so they'd have clean clothes when the nurses were through with them. He didn't want to leave Leighton, but they'd all prefer her out of the bloody outfit she's wearing.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" Rossi asks, just to make sure he's not putting Leighton under too much pressure. They don't have to do this now, even if he understands Leighton's need to. Quite frankly, he can use the distraction himself. Ashley always knew the dangers of the job, always _wanted_ this job, but knowing what she's going through now makes him feel guilty for ever turning to her for help.

"I'm good," Leighton says, wincing when the nurse applies disinfectant to her skin.

"Do you remember what you were doing before the shooting?" Rossi asks.

"We were walking to the car," Leighton says, trying to envision the scene as it was before the shooting started. They were talking about something, Leighton thinks. That's right, Morgan and Ashley were teasing her about how Reid and Leighton still pretended not to be a couple when they were working on a case. "Morgan and Ashley—they got in at the driver's side, the street side," Leighton continues. "I was on the other side of the car. I didn't see them. I—" Leighton shakes her head, because suddenly all she can see is Ashley on the ground, bleeding, her own hands bloody from pressing her jacket onto Ashley's wounds.

_Stay with me, Ashley. _

_Ashley, please, you have to stay awake._

Rossi's hand is on her shoulder. Leighton snaps out of her train of thought.

"What happened next?" Rossi asks calmly.

"Morgan shouted something," Leighton answers.

"What did he shout?"

_Seaver, get down!_

"What happened?" Hotch asks, looking at Morgan intently. There's a nurse tending to the cuts on his hands and arms, but Hotch thought it was as good a time as any to run through the events with Morgan. If anything to save the nurses from any more verbal assaults.

"She turned around to look," Morgan answers, and his brow creases. "I couldn't get to her," he says, and closes his eyes – he sees the car door, open, separating him from Seaver, "the door was in the way. She couldn't—" Morgan looks up at Hotch, guilt ripping through him in an all too familiar way. "I ran, man," Morgan says, and tears fill up his eyes. "I ran and left her there." Morgan shakes his head.

"There's nothing you could have done, Morgan," Hotch says, his own guilt tripled in the span of a few words. This is his doing, _his lie_, it's his fault Morgan blames himself for this, and Emily's death. And now it's Ashley's life on the line.

"Morgan was next to me after the first few shots," Leighton says. The first bullet shattered one of the rear windows, a hail of glass down on the floor, and so much noise. So loud. Her ears are still ringing, but she's sure part of it's her imagination. "I didn't need to look to know what happened to Ashley." Blood, so much blood.

"Did the car stop?"

"No," Morgan answers, trying to regain his composure. The shooters didn't intend to kill anyone, the shooting was a warning for them. _Back off_, it said, but Morgan knows none of them will. "I squeezed off a few shots but the car was already out of range."

"Did you see the plates?"

Leighton looks up at Rossi. "I didn't see the car at all," she says, and frowns to herself. "I didn't—I didn't see anything." All she remembers is chaos, glass raining down on her, cutting into her skin, gunshot after gunshot, bullet after bullet embedding itself into the car. Did she freeze? Was that it? Is that the panic she feels, the immobility, the _fear_? Leighton shakes her head. "Morgan released three shots. And then we both went to check on Ashley."

"There was one shooter, one driver," Morgan finishes, hearing Leighton's voice somewhere in the distance, followed by Rossi's.

Half an hour later Leighton, Reid and JJ are in the second floor waiting room hoping to get some more news, but just as they'd all predicted it'd be a waiting game until Seaver's surgery was over. Leighton hasn't seen Morgan, for some reason he stayed downstairs, while Rossi and Hotch had hurried back to the police station to correct the profile.

"Morgan," JJ says suddenly, and all three of them look up to see Morgan join them at the end of the hallway.

Leighton takes a deep breath; she wonders if she looks as haggard as Morgan does right now. She gets up from her seat, wincing when she feels her pants scrape against her knees, but she makes it over to Morgan. When she meets his eyes she can see it; the guilt, the blame he's decided to shoulder, even though there's nothing more he could have done without stepping in front of a bullet himself.

She's not sure where it comes from, but Leighton takes a step forward and puts her arms around Morgan. He freezes against her for just a moment, but then relaxes, and hugs her back. Reid and JJ look at each other, and smile, but give Leighton and Morgan a few moments' privacy.

* * *

><p><strong>(5)<strong>

"God damn it, woman!" Morgan shouts when the blonde-haired nurse digs a syringe in his arm.

"Morgan," Hotch says, arms crossed over his chest. "Indoor voice."

Morgan sighs and tries to bite through the pain. He knows it's his own fault; if he hadn't insisted on going back to work and try to catch the sons of bitches that shot at him he wouldn't be back here getting stitches again. But he had, and even though he's more than a little relieved he'd helped catch the bastards, he really wishes he hadn't pulled his stitches.

"Sir, please, you have to sit still," the nurse urges, grabbing a tighter hold of Morgan's forearm.

Rossi had gone back upstairs to join the others, but Hotch wanted to make sure Morgan didn't make too much of a spectacle of himself before going upstairs himself. He hears JJ approach by the sound her heels make on the floor.

"You got them," she says, probably having heard the news from Rossi.

Hotch nods. "They were planning on bombing the police station."

"Explains why they wanted us out of the way," JJ says, eyes fixed tightly on Hotch's face, but her fearless team leader doesn't betray any of his emotions. She's been worried about him for a while now, and she wonders how heavy he's made the weight on his shoulders now that Seaver is down as well.

"How's Ashley doing?" Hotch asks.

"She's in the ICU," JJ answers. "It might still be a little touch and go for a while, but if everything goes well she should wake up in a few hours."

Hotch pulls JJ aside, making sure Morgan can't hear another word. "How's the team doing?"

JJ frowns to herself; why doesn't Hotch go upstairs and see for himself? "They're shaken up," JJ answers nonetheless. "Especially after—" That's when it hits her—why Hotch is looking over Morgan, why he doesn't confront the team. She might not be a profiler, but she recognizes guilt when she sees it. "Hotch, this isn't your fault."

"No," Hotch says, not looking at her. "But Emily was."

"We did that to protect her," JJ says, looking at him strongly. "To protect _all of them_." She understands Hotch's guilt, she's felt it so often, especially when Spence showed up on her doorstep in the weeks following Emily's funeral—it was so hard to keep the truth from him, but she had to. "You have to keep faith that you made the right choice. For all of us."

Hotch looks up at her. "Did I?" he asks.

* * *

><p><strong>(6)<strong>

Garcia's wearing a bright pink dress for the occasion. She's sure the team could profile her going by her outfits alone, but that's a part of her personality that she can't change. It's a way for her to cope with things, a cloak, the brighter her outfit the more awful the darkness she's trying to fend off is. After JJ left and Emily died Kevin often said her outfits got crazier by the day. But she'll never apologize for that. Right now she knows that if this keeps happening to her family, she'll run out of outfits to wear.

"Hey you," Garcia says when she joins the others at Seaver's beside, her voice small. Reid and Leighton are at the other side of the bed, Leighton leaning up against Reid in a way that Garcia's never seen them before. But she's happy to see it. Rossi's in a chair next to her. Seaver looks up to meet her eyes. "How are you feeling?" Garcia asks.

"Like hell," Seaver answers, and coughs. "I hear I have you to thank for catching these guys."

"You heard correct." Garcia nods. Her computer skills had paid off remarkably well today, despite everything. "Anyone tries to mess with my family, they're gonna feel the burning flame of justice."

Seaver only just manages a smile. "Thanks," she says.

"We'll let you get some rest," Leighton says, but she really needs the rest as well. That, and some quality time alone with Reid. She looks at Rossi. "I suppose it's futile to ask you to get some rest as well?"

"Utterly futile," Rossi answers, settling back in the armchair next to Seaver's bed. He has some books with him, and everyone knows he'll be looking over Ashley for as long as he can.

"We'll be back in the morning," Reid says, watching Leighton squeeze Seaver's hand. He was more than a little relieved when the doctors told them Ashley would pull through. But however selfish it made him he's mostly grateful it wasn't Leighton, that they were spared this. Two months ago in San Francisco he knew she had back up, that she was protected. But this, this had been torture. It's a very strange and new feeling, the intensity his care, his _love_ for Leighton has taken. It's scary.

Leighton, Reid and Garcia halt right outside Seaver's room. Garcia looks around, and frowns. "Where's my man?" she asks.

"Driving the nurses insane," Reid answers, hands in his pockets.

"He tore his stitches," Leighton explains. "He's downstairs."

Garcia smiles to herself, but then her worry takes over again. "Are you okay?" Garcia asks, stroking a hand down the length of Leighton's arm. Leighton isn't looking bad, and there's color in her cheeks, but she'd like to hear it first hand this time.

Leighton smiles in reassurance. "Just a little bruised," she answers. "Nothing that won't heal."

Garcia smiles, and leaves in search of Morgan. Leighton feels her eyes drawn to Seaver's room again, and through the open door she can see her younger colleague asleep in bed. That could have been her, Leighton catches herself thinking, that could have been any of them. It could have been Reid.

"What are you thinking?" Reid asks suddenly. Leighton looks up at him.

She's thinking it's times like these that she questions why she does this job in the first place. Reid asked her that once, and she's asked herself the same question more than once over the course of her FBI career. She doesn't need to be reminded why she does it, even her nephews could tell her that saving people and catching bad guys is one of the best feelings there is in the world. But the job description never mentions _this_. The doubt. The uncertainty. The pain.

She doesn't need to be reminded, but Leighton knows she doesn't want to lose her life or herself doing this job. She doesn't want this job _to be_ her life.

But Leighton doesn't say any of it out loud. Maybe she's afraid of what Reid will think, that when she leaves the job she'll leave him too, but Leighton thinks he really must realize that won't happen. Maybe she doesn't say it because Reid already knows this about her.

Leighton looks up at Reid, and takes hold of his hand, intertwining her fingers with his. "Let's not tell Natalie about any of this, okay?" she says.

Reid smiles crookedly. "Sure," he says. "Let's go home."

* * *

><p><strong>if you can, please let me know what you think!<strong>


	24. Just You And I

**author's notes:** sorry for the wait yet again! some might say i'm slacking, but i've been distracted by a _Vampire Diaries_ story *g* so feel free to actually blame that on _The Vampire Diaries_ instead of well, _me_. a million billion thanks to everyone that left me comments, i'm almost at 100 comments and you have no idea how excited that makes me! welcome to any and all new readers! i hope you all enjoy the new chapter, it's a light one (ish) :D special thanks to my beta **Inwenalas**.

**characters:** Reid/Leighton (OC), Morgan, Rossi, JJ, mention of Hotch and Seaver

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

><p><strong>SCARS REMIND US WHERE WE'VE BEEN;;<strong>

****chapter twenty-three  
><strong>**

* * *

><p><strong>date: <strong>October, 2012

**(1)**

"You know, Morgan calls you my baby girl," Reid says, scoping Leighton for a reaction. But Leighton doesn't even look up, she just puts their plates down in the sink.

"Yeah, I know," she answers. Reid looks at her, waiting for a reaction, and he guesses in the end it's his silence that makes Leighton look up. Leighton looks at him and frowns. "You're not going to start calling me _baby girl_." She shakes her head, but smiles.

"What should I call you then?" Reid asks.

"What's wrong with _Leighton_?" Leighton's focused back on the dishes, fetching the detergent from under the sink. She looks at him again. "Oh, I see, you're making fun of me now?" she asks, and wonders briefly where he got the idea in the first place. It doesn't take her long, this has Morgan written all over it. "Did Morgan put you up to this?" Leighton asks, and nudges Reid with her elbow.

Reid grins. "Most couples use pet names to refer to each other," he says, nodding to himself.

Leighton's eyes narrow on Reid's face; she can't tell if he's still playing around or being serious. To be honest, she'd never considered calling him anything else but Spence or Reid. It's touching that Reid has. "Tell you what," she says, and takes a step closer. "You can call me whatever you want." She could stand being called _baby girl_. "Just not anywhere where Morgan can hear it."

Reid smiles. "Sounds reasonable," he says, and presses a kiss to Leighton's lips. Leighton moves back and opens the tap, but realizes she only just got the stitches in her hand removed; she's not supposed to get it wet yet. "Hmm, this is problematic," Reid says, quirking his lips. "I'll have to do the dishes," he jokes.

Leighton chuckles; she likes this playful mode. "Or—" Leighton starts, reaching up to put her arms around Reid's neck. "We could leave the dishes for the morning."

Reid eyes her suspiciously; leaving the dishes for the morning won't heal Leighton's hand any faster, even though he understands what she's getting at. "What would we do instead?" he asks, feigning ignorance.

Leighton shakes her head. "Shut up," she says, and pulls him in for another kiss.

* * *

><p><strong>(2)<strong>

When Morgan pushes through the doors to the bullpen he looks like he hasn't slept at all. He walks over to the small kitchen, Reid reading at the table, Leighton boiling water for her tea.

"Late night?" Reid asks without looking up from his book.

"_Long_ night," Morgan corrects, but knows he had that question coming. Reid smiles to himself, exchanging a quick glance with Leighton. "I love Garcia, but that's the last time I let her set me up." Morgan shakes his head, grabbing a cup and filling it with _a lot_ of coffee.

This is too tempting to pass up, Leighton thinks, she's too curious to just let this go. "Why?" she asks, more amused than she probably should be. "What happened?"

"It started out perfectly nice," Morgan says, leaning back against the counter. "Took her to a little jazz place, we talked, we danced." Reid lowers his book to the table, now focused on the conversation as well. "And then her jacket comes off."

"And?" Leighton asks.

"A full body suit," Morgan answers. "She's covered in tattoos from tip to toe." Morgan shrugs. "Not my thing."

Leighton frowns. "Really?"

Morgan whips his head around to look at her. "What?" he shrugs. "You think just because I've got tattoos I'm attracted to girls covered in them?"

Leighton puts her hands up in surrender. "I just think you sound overly judgmental for a guy who has tattoos himself," she answers. She adds her teabag to her cup, and picks up her tablet from the table. Reid gets up as well, following behind Morgan and Leighton to the conference room.

"Do you have any tattoos?" Morgan asks.

"I don't think that's any of your business," Leighton says, entering the conference room. When she turns to face Morgan, he's looking at Reid for some answers. "Don't look at him," Leighton says, and shakes her head. She might have a tiny butterfly tattoo right inside the hem of her pants, easily covered by her underwear. But Morgan doesn't need to know about that.

"A carefully placed tattoo can be _very_ attractive, Tanner," Morgan smiles.

"Nice try," Leighton says, "but I'm still not telling you." She sits down next to Rossi at the round table. "You been to see Ashley?" she asks, quite ready to change the subject. Reid and her had been to see Ashley a few days ago. She'd been going to some pretty extensive rehabilitation for her back, but Ashley has always been strong. With her family's and colleagues' support she'll get through this just fine.

Rossi nods. "Yesterday," he says. "She said to say thanks for flowers," he tells Morgan. "I don't think they trumped the game console though."

All three of them laugh. "Not all of us have that much money to spend," Morgan answers, settling down in a chair next to Reid.

* * *

><p><strong>(3)<strong>

She's hardly slept a wink all week and she can feel it. Everything feels heavy: her legs, her arms, her eyelids. But she knew this would happen. It was inevitable. The closer the date of Nick Mumford's execution came, the more anxious she got. The nightmares mostly stayed away, but that's only because she got so little sleep to begin with.

Reid had been an absolute dream, careful around her whenever he thought she was ready to explode, even though she'd somewhat learned to deal with her anxiety. And she'd long since learned to talk to Reid when anything was bothering her.

Her colleagues had been an equally important support. Leighton has always been about family, a bond deeper than any other. There's nothing she wouldn't do for her family and that included giving up Reid. Except Leighton doesn't know what she'd do without Reid anymore either, or her team. She understood Reid's bond with the team from the moment she met them four years ago, a bond that was there not only because he didn't have many other family members. It was a bond of friendship, of mutual trust, but also love. A love she has since experienced firsthand and come to treasure. Reid's her family. Her team's her family too.

"Hey," Leighton says when she answers her phone. She'd decided to take a cab to the prison, rather than drive her rental car. Somehow she thought it'd be safer.

"Hey," Reid says, rocking back and forth in his chair behind his desk. "Where are you?" he asks.

"On my way to the prison," Leighton answers, chewing her fingernails. "You guys on a case?" she asks, anything to be distracted. This is something she has to do, for more people than just herself, but she'll see this through. She needs to be strong.

"Missing boy," Reid answers. Hotch and Rossi emerge from their respective offices; he nods at Hotch, signaling that he'll be right there. He knows Hotch won't mind, especially because he's talking to Leighton. "I'm not sure I'll be able to pick you up at the airport," he says.

"Don't worry about me," Leighton says. "I'll find my way home." She means that in more ways than one.

"Take care of yourself, okay?" Reid says, biting his lip nervously. He scans the bullpen fast, but it seems most of his team has already made it into the conference room. "I love you," he says, mostly because he can say it freely now, without catching any bemused glances from JJ or Morgan. He never thought his relationship would become the matter of such amusement or scrutiny.

Leighton smiles to herself. "I love you too," she says, without hesitation. There's only the driver and her and no one else around to judge her.

"Special Agent Leighton Tanner," she tells the guard at the gate, and hands over her sidearm. Her heart's beating fast in her chest, muscles tense, and she's certain that if she keeps chewing her lips the way she is right now she'll soon draw blood.

"Agent Tanner," a voice sounds from behind her. She turns, and stares right into two blue eyes. "Here to see the end?"

"Detective Roberts," Leighton says, and shakes his hand. "I'm here to see justice being served."

She sits next to Detective Roberts in the antechamber—John Burke had called Leighton a week ago that he wouldn't be at the execution. After everything that happened to Sylvia he didn't feel the need to face her killer again; watching him in court had been enough. Unlike Leighton, John had been satisfied hearing Mumford sentenced to death.

When the curtains to the lethal injection chamber open Mumford finds her eyes immediately. He throws her an air kiss as his last word, but Leighton refuses to so much as blink. She looks at him not just for herself, she doesn't stay strong for her own sake. No, she looks at him for Sylvia and Tara, for Michelle and Tracy. For Marissa and Caroline. For all his victims and all the loved ones they left behind.

Most people in the small room look away when Nick Mumford goes into convulsions, his heart monitor flatlining not long after. Leighton casts down her eyes, something strange settling on top of her chest. Somehow she thought she'd remain unaffected by Mumford's death, but she has trouble breathing.

"Time of death, 6.24 pm."

Tears already threaten to escape her eyes by the time her cab drops her off at Reid's place. She pays the cab driver fast and rushes out of the car, slugging her carry-on behind her, pushing through the doors of the building and running up the stairs. By the time she makes it upstairs her heart is racing and tears are running down her cheeks. She feels free, but it hurts. It's such a strange feeling to be having right now.

She knocks, realizing she has a key only when she hears Reid's footsteps coming towards the door. "Why are you knocking?" Reid asks, but doesn't care for an answer when he sees the state Leighton is in.

Leighton breaks out in tears. "Hey-y," Reid says, and takes Leighton in his arms. "Hey, it's okay." He kisses her hair and rubs her back, leading her to the couch.

In between her sobs Leighton manages to get out her story. Reid holds her all night, without saying a word.

* * *

><p><strong>(4)<strong>

"Checkmate," Reid says, and places his black queen in the path of Leighton's white king.

Leighton studies the board on the table between them closely but realizes Reid defeated her. Again. She looks up at him, but smiles, the same smile reflected on Reid's face. This was bound to happen; she didn't know anything about chess before Reid started teaching her. Leighton sits back in her seat on the plane, and watches Reid reset the pieces of the chessboard.

JJ looks up from her file and stares at Reid for a while, then looks at Leighton. "Doesn't it ever bother you that he always wins?" she asks.

Leighton looks at JJ, sitting next to her. "No."

"Really?" Reid frowns.

Leighton looks back at Reid and raises an eyebrow in question. If he really thinks it bothers her, why does he keep playing her?

"Most people don't like losing," JJ says.

"Most people don't play guys with an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory," Leighton answers. The other members of the team have seen them play chess before, why is this becoming an issue now? But Leighton guesses this is just another way of teasing her and Reid. "At least I'm getting better," Leighton says. "Maybe I'll even beat my dad one day." So far, she hasn't dared to suggest that Reid play her dad. She's not quite sure either of them is ready for that.

"My God," Morgan says suddenly, seated next to Reid. He's been listening in on the conversation. "You two do know you're made for each other, right?" he asks, and he's only party joking. Leighton and Reid seem more in tune with each other than they've ever been. Somehow he doesn't think that'll change again.

Reid and Leighton look at each other, both going wide-eyed. "_Made_ for each other," they say in unison, and start laughing.

Leighton shakes her head and gets up, going into the small kitchen to grab another cup of tea.

"You want to be careful, kid," Morgan says, leaning closer to speak to Reid in private, even though he's sure JJ can hear him. "You don't want her cutting you off."

"Cutting me off?" Reid asks, lining up the row of white pawns. "Why would she do that?" he frowns to himself, but looks at Morgan when he doesn't respond. Morgan gives him a knowing look. Of course, Reid thinks, _that's_ what Morgan means. What else could it have been? He looks back at Leighton. "She wouldn't do that," he says.

JJ and Morgan both break out laughing, and he swears he can hear Rossi and Hotch laugh behind them as well. When Leighton joins them again, everyone on the plane tries their best to keep a straight face.

"What's so funny?" Leighton asks when she settles back down next to JJ. But she never finds out exactly what has the other team members amused.

* * *

><p><strong>(5)<strong>

"Do you think we should move in together?" Reid asks, the words out of his mouth beyond his control. He's been meaning to ask this for weeks now, he just never found the right time. But he realized quickly it had nothing to do with finding the right time; he just had to muster up the courage to ask Leighton.

Leighton blinks and pops the freshly roasted piece of toast out of her mouth, her eyes wide when she looks up at him. "What?" she asks.

"Well, we're hardly home as it is," he argues, even though he's not sure he has to. He can imagine this all sounds a bit sudden. "And we always stay at your place, or mine."

Leighton gets up from behind the kitchen table. It's not an unpleasant thought at all, and Reid's right, they hardly spend a night apart anymore. "So moving in together would be— logical," she says. "It'd probably be less confusing for Sergio as well," she jokes.

Reid frowns to himself and swallows hard. He realizes he's sweating. "If you don't want to—" he starts, but doesn't get to finish. Leighton throws her arms around Reid's neck, his hands settling at her waist.

"I'm teasing," she says, and smiles. She can't say she's not surprised, Reid has never brought it up before and neither has she—they haven't really talked about anything serious beyond this. "I think we should."

Reid grins, and kisses Leighton; he feels Leighton's fingers tangling through his hair. They should really be getting ready for work, but he can't form a straight thought anymore. Unfortunately Leighton's phone interrupts an otherwise perfect moment.

"Hotch?" Reid asks when Leighton digs her phone out of her back pocket.

But it's not Hotch's name that appears on Leighton's cellphone screen. "Morgan," she corrects, and frowns to herself. "Morgan?" she asks when she answers her phone. She doesn't take a step away from Reid, but combs her fingers through his hair, attempting to force it back in place.

"I found him, Tanner," Morgan says, his voice deep and serious.

"Found who?"

"Doyle," Morgan says. Leighton can feel her heart dropping to her stomach. He did it, she thinks, he actually found him. "I've found Doyle," Morgan repeats, but Leighton doesn't find her voice. What will Morgan do? Go after Doyle by himself? "Come in as soon as you can," Morgan concludes, and the line goes dead.

Leighton looks up at Reid; he's staring back at her in question. "Morgan found Doyle," Leighton says.

Reid's eyes focus away from her immediately; he swallows hard, and shoots in action, getting all his things together to go to the office.

* * *

><p><strong>if you can, please let me know what you think!<strong>


	25. Cross That Line

**author's notes:** well, this wrote itself faster than anticipated :)) major spoilers for 7x01 (_It Takes A Village_), and i also took some dialogue from the episode. this is my own interpretation of how Emily comes back, it's not a comment on how the show did it. i've struggled a lot with this storyline, mostly because the show did it very well, but i tried to give it a different twist nonetheless. **Inwenalas** has assured me that i focused on exactly all the right moments :)) i hope everyone likes the chapter! thanks so much to everyone leaving me comments!

**characters:** Reid/Leighton (OC), Hotch, Morgan, JJ, Rossi, Garcia, Prentiss, Ian Doyle, mention of Declan and Strauss

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

><p><strong>SCARS REMIND US WHERE WE'VE BEEN;;<strong>

****chapter twenty-four  
><strong>**

* * *

><p><strong>date: <strong>October 29th-30th, 2012

**(1)**

"Exactly how long have you had Declan under surveillance?" Hotch asks, staring at Morgan hard. When Morgan had called him earlier it was like he'd called a national alert—deep down maybe he'd known Morgan was still investigating Doyle, but he never thought he'd go this far in his pursuit. Hotch had hoped he'd eventually just give up.

"Since I found him this February," Morgan answers. The rest of the team stands fanned out around the conference room table. So far most of them haven't said anything, but are waiting for either Hotch or Morgan to tell them what to do.

"Morgan, I never authorized any of this," Hotch says, arms crossed over his chest.

"Everyone in this room understands why I had to do this, Hotch," Morgan argues. Is Hotch really going to stand there and condemn what he did? "I waited this long to tell you because I wasn't sure it'd pan out," he adds. "I didn't want any of you involved until I was sure." Most of all he didn't want any of his team to sign up for that hurt all over again. Now it's different. Now they'll be getting justice.

"This is not our case," Hotch says.

"The hell it isn't," Morgan answers, tone strong and defensive. "I don't give a damn about jurisdiction, Hotch. This is the son of a bitch who killed Emily!" he says. How can Hotch stand there and tell him this? "You're just going to step aside and let someone else take care of this?"

"Morgan, it has to be legal," JJ interjects. They all want the same thing, they all want to see Doyle brought to justice, but they can't just risk all their careers by doing whatever they want.

"Don't you dare, JJ, you weren't even there," Morgan says.

JJ's eyes are struck with hurt.

"Morgan, that's not fair," Reid says, reacting to Morgan's words immediately. He has to admit he's with Morgan on this one, but he understands that Hotch has to consider the politics of this, and more importantly, he has to protect the team from any backlash. But they all lost Emily. Including JJ.

Morgan sighs, leaning his arms down on the chair in front of him. "I'm sorry," he says. He knows he suffers from tunnel vision when it comes to Doyle, he can't help it. None of the others were there with Emily in her last moments.

Hotch takes a deep breath. "If we do this, we'll do this right," he says. This is the least he can do for his team. "I'll talk to Strauss. We know this case and we know Doyle. I'll make sure it's official."

Morgan straightens himself out, his shoulders relaxing. Now they're getting somewhere.

"Morgan, you, JJ and Leighton track down Doyle," Hotch orders. "Dave, you and Reid get Declan in protective custody."

They all leave the room in silence to grab their gear; Morgan, JJ and Rossi back to their offices, Leighton and Reid to their desks in the bullpen.

"Hey, are you okay?" Leighton asks, grabbing her gun from a drawer and strapping it to her belt. She'd much rather not ask at all, but Reid hasn't looked at her once since they got Morgan's call this morning.

"I'm fine," Reid says, without looking at her.

"Spence," Leighton insists, one hand held out, stepping in front of him when he tries to pass her.

"Morgan's right," he says, fidgety, still avoiding her eyes. "Doyle killed Emily, this is our case."

Leighton stays silent because she gets it—she pursued Mumford and later Sylvia Burke's killer with little regard for anyone else's feelings. It's why she never stopped Morgan, but merely kept an eye on him. It's why she'll give Reid some space to deal with his feelings now, instead of insist that he takes it slow. If they're really onto Doyle's trail things won't slow down any time soon.

Reid finds Leighton's eyes; he's been avoiding them to circumvent any guilt. "I'm okay," he amends. He doesn't want to push Leighton away now; she might not have known Emily like he did, but they were friends. And after all this time Leighton deserves better from him. "I promise."

Leighton nods, and lets Reid pass her. It's not long after that Rossi joins her. "Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid?" she asks, knowing that Rossi will understand what she means.

"Make sure Morgan doesn't do anything he'll regret," Rossi says. Leighton nods, both of them disregarding any further pleasantries—they're on the job now, a job more important than all the others because they're doing this for Emily, one of their own that got lost. Today's about Emily, and their own peace of mind.

But when Reid and Rossi get to Declan's school the principal tells them he went home because he was sick. They try to catch him at home, but the house has been trashed, the two FBI agents that were supposed to be protecting Declan both dead.

When JJ, Leighton and Morgan survey Doyle's apartment, there's no sign of him either.

* * *

><p><strong>(2)<strong>

He doesn't know what he's been telling himself all these months. How exactly had he hoped this would end? He knew this moment would come eventually, that his team would find out just how much he kept from them, that he didn't suffer like they did because he hid Emily away from the world.

"Everyone please take a seat," Hotch says, trying very hard to keep his voice even. There's nothing he can do now, Emily's on her way here, her worry for Declan more important to her than her own safety.

Most of the team sits down around the table; JJ is standing next to him. Morgan looks around in confusion. "Why?" he asks, and doesn't sit down.

Hotch thinks it's best he just cuts to the chase. "Last year I made a decision that affected this team," he starts, hoping his team will allow him to get it all out first, and ask questions later. "As you all know Emily lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle—"

Everyone in the room casts down their eyes; they don't need to hear this again. "But the doctors were able to stabilize her," Hotch adds. Garcia looks up at him and frowns, tears in her eyes already, "and she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under covert exfiltration. Her identity was strictly need-to-know."

Everyone's but JJ's eyes are focused on him. It's so silent he thinks that if he stops speaking now they'll be able to hear a pin drop. "She stayed there until she was well enough to travel. She was reassigned to Paris, where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to for her security."

He looks up, staring straight into Morgan's eyes. A quiet shock ripples through the entire room. He never wanted to do this to his team, he never wanted to put them through the grief of losing a colleague and friend and then find out it was all a deception. But he had to, to keep Emily safe, to keep them _all_ safe.

Garcia blinks, a tear running down her cheek. "She's—She's alive?" Garcia stutters.

Reid looks up at Hotch. "But we buried her," he says, his voice small. He _carried_ Emily's coffin, shed an endless amount of tears for her for weeks. He almost lost himself mourning for Emily.

"As I said I take full responsibility for the decision," Hotch says, his heart breaking where he stands. He did this to all of them; to Reid, always afraid of losing someone close to him; to Morgan, closed off from the world because trust never comes easy to him; to Garcia, who gives herself completely and asks for so little in return; to Rossi, closer to this team than anyone will ever realize. And to Leighton, whom he forced on all of them, to ease his own guilt, to mend them as a group. It wasn't fair to them and it wasn't fair to her. "If anyone has any issues they should be directed toward me."

Morgan looks around the room. Why isn't anyone reacting, he thinks, why isn't anyone utterly _disgusted_ by what they just heard? "Any issues?" Morgan asks. "Yeah, I got issues!"

A shiver runs up Leighton's spine; she can see Morgan's anger in his entire body. "Morgan—" Leighton starts, but she barely gets a word in. She can feel her own throat closing up with a mixture of relief and puzzlement.

"You lied to us?" Morgan says, shaking where he stands, but he doesn't raise his voice. "You've been lying to us this entire time?"

"Morgan—" It's Garcia that tries this time, but Morgan never once takes his eyes off Hotch.

"Why are you telling us now?" Leighton asks, hoping to distract Morgan, if only for a second.

"Declan got a call in," Hotch explains. "She's on her way here."

Morgan's anger melts instantly. "She's—" he breathes, but turns his back on everyone to spare them his tears. Emily, the strong. Emily, the brave. _Alive_.

"Right now we have to focus on finding Doyle," Hotch says.

But Morgan has an entirely different idea—he all but runs from the conference room. Almost everyone else around the table is too stunned to do anything. Leighton looks at Reid, but he's staring down at the floor, frowning to himself, clearly struggling to process everything. When Leighton motions to get up and follow Morgan, she looks up at Hotch, but he merely nods, understanding why she has to.

"Morgan," Leighton calls out, catching up with him in the hallway outside the bullpen. She thinks he's probably headed to his office. "Morgan!" she calls again when he makes no move to stop.

"What, Tanner?" he shouts, and turns to face her.

"You have to calm down," Leighton says, keeping her voice steady. It won't help anyone if she loses her temper too. Something tells her she'll be doing that for a while. "Not for Hotch, but for _you_." Morgan shakes his head, avoiding her eyes. "Come on, Morgan. Doyle still needs to be brought in. And don't forget about Declan."

"So you're just okay with all this?" Morgan asks. "But then I suppose it's not the same for you. You hardly knew Emily."

It's a low blow and Morgan knows it, that's why Leighton doesn't react, but that doesn't mean he'll get away with this completely. "She was my friend too, Morgan," Leighton says tersely. She's sure that soon she'll feel the weight of Hotch's deception as well, not just in her relationship with Reid, but for herself. If Hotch knew Emily was alive all this time, why did he assign her to the team?

* * *

><p><strong>(3)<strong>

"So what do we know?" Rossi asks, finally having assembled everyone in the bullpen. Reid's in his chair behind his desk, Leighton had offered Garcia her chair, Rossi and Morgan are standing, their backs to the conference room, where Hotch and JJ are talking. Rossi knows they separated themselves to give the others some space to breathe—judging by the state Reid and Garcia are in, they could use it.

"Doyle hired a team to take Declan, but according to my contact at Interpol he's still in DC," Morgan answers. "Why hasn't he tried to leave the country?"

"Maybe he lacks the resources," Leighton says, leaning back against the partition between Reid's desk and hers. She's glad everyone seems momentarily focused on the problem at hand, rather than spend their time being angry at Hotch or JJ.

"Last time he surfaced the entire state was on alert," Morgan picks up on Leighton's train of thought. "He can't go anywhere without risking exposure."

"What if it's something more?" Reid asks, staring out into oblivion but apparently still completely involved in the conversation.

"You think he knows Emily's alive," Rossi says.

Leighton looks at Reid. "You think that revenge is more important to him than his son?" she asks. From experience she knows revenge can be a very strong motivator, but would Doyle really take that big a chance? He stands every chance of getting caught again, and then where will he be?

"It could be," Reid answers. "It got him here last time when he thought Emily had killed Declan. Even now she's still the one that put him in prison and took away the one thing that he loved." If Doyle's really that fixed on Emily, blaming her for everything that happened to him and his son, who's to say what lengths he'll go to get his revenge?

"Still," Rossi says, "It's an awfully big risk."

"A man is capable of a lot of things when he has nothing left to lose," Leighton says, looking at Rossi. "Maybe it's—" she stops talking because she loses her words. Someone just walked into her peripheral vision that she hasn't seen there for a very long time, and it's shocking how strongly it affects her. At the other end of the room, through the glass doors to the bullpen, Emily walks in.

Morgan and Rossi turn to see what has caught Leighton's attention while Garcia and Reid rise up from their chairs. For a moment or two, they're all stunned into silence.

"Oh my God," Garcia says, snapping out of her reverie, and runs over to Emily. Reid follows immediately behind, and Rossi follows him seconds later.

Leighton looks at Morgan, trying to scope his reaction, but Morgan is unreadable. His eyes are sad, though something tells Leighton there's no one happier to see Emily alive. She wonders if he'll make his way over to Emily, or push her away altogether. It can't be easy, Leighton thinks, grieving the death of a friend and then have her show up again as if nothing happened at all. But something did happen, Emily got ripped away from them so suddenly and painfully that it left a scar in all of them. And some scars heal faster than others.

"I'm sorry," Emily says, hugging Garcia in a tight embrace. Even when Emily lets go to hug Reid, Garcia doesn't release Emily's hand. "I'm so sorry," Emily repeats, her arms around Reid now.

Morgan walks over at the sound of Emily's voice. _It's real_, he thinks, she's really here.

Leighton breathes a small sigh of relief and follows as well.

"You have no idea how many times I wanted to tell you," Emily says, looking around the room at all her friends. "There's not a day that went by when I didn't—" She finally lays eyes on Morgan—thinking of Morgan had been the hardest. He was with her last and he told her to hold on. He made her fight for her life, fight to live and here she was. Alive because of Morgan.

"Really," Emily insists, taking a step closer to Morgan. "You didn't deserve that." She opens her arms tentatively, because Morgan doesn't move, but she still hugs him. It's what they both need. "I'm so sorry," she says it again because what other words can she use? There are no words to describe what she's feeling.

* * *

><p><strong>(4)<strong>

It comes as no surprise to anyone when Emily offers herself up as bait to lure Doyle out. But everyone knows that's exactly what he wants, it's what he _expects_, and he'll have everything planned out to the last detail. Leighton wants to tell herself that it's exactly what she did in San Francisco, except Charles Baker wasn't an international terrorist or arms dealer; Ian Doyle is too unpredictable to set up like this.

"He'll never have Declan with him," Emily says.

"Won't he want to keep him close?" Leighton asks.

Emily shakes her head. "Trust me, there's nothing Ian Doyle cares more about than his son," she says. "He won't risk putting him in the middle of all that."

"He'll most likely have Declan in a separate location," Reid says.

"We need to find that location," Hotch says. "Intercept them before they get to the rendezvous."

"How do we do that?" Garcia asks.

"Find out where he's hiding," Morgan answers. "Figure out who he's working with and pinpoint a location."

"I'll help Garcia with a list of possible associates," Emily says.

"Good," Hotch says, arms crossed over his chest. "Reid, pinpoint any location Doyle could be using." Reid nods without looking at Hotch. "Morgan and Leighton, I want you to sit down with SWAT and come up with a preliminary tactical assault."

Morgan leaves the conference room, followed by Reid a few seconds later. The whole room can feel the tension, but none so much as Emily, Hotch and JJ—whatever tension there is, whether it's born from anger or general disappointment, it's directed at the three of them. Leighton tries her best to appear as calm as Rossi, who for some reason seems unaffected by most of what happened today. She can't help but wonder why that is.

When Leighton makes her way out of the conference room to look for Morgan, she finds Reid making coffee for himself. Of course, Leighton thinks, no matter how distracted he gets he'll always need his coffee. "Are you okay?" she asks, grabbing a mug for herself from an overhead cupboard.

"I'm fine," Reid answers, but doesn't look up from the coffee he's pouring. "And I really wish you'd stop asking me that," he adds.

"You're right, I probably shouldn't," Leighton says. It's a reversal of roles this time, and maybe it makes her a hypocrite. She's never one to talk about her innermost feelings, and she'd still be hard-pressed to do so to anyone else but Reid. And she's not asking for a quid pro quo either—she's just worried, and doesn't want to be blamed for not caring somewhere down the line. "But I'm going to worry anyway."

"Really?" Reid asks, adding sugar to his coffee. "Why is that?"

Leighton takes a step closer and lowers her voice. "Because I'm not just a profiler, I'm also your girlfriend," she says. She doesn't want an apology – it shouldn't always come down to who's right and who's wrong in an argument, but Reid has to realize she's not going to stop asking him if he's okay just because it annoys him. In fact, the more it annoys him, the more she'll ask. Just like he would.

"I don't see how that's relevant," Reid says, and leaves Leighton alone in the kitchenette.

Leighton sighs, but doesn't pursue Reid. She knows it's his way of dealing, keeping everything inside much like she does, and that he's taking it to extremes because they're at work and he wants to be professional, especially now. It doesn't mean that she has to like it.

"Hey," Emily says, joining Leighton from the conference room. "Is everything okay with—"

Leighton looks over at Reid, sitting alone behind his desk. "Oh, yeah, don't worry about it," she says. She'll worry herself, but she doesn't want to blame Emily for anything. Emily didn't have a choice. "I think everyone's just a little—"

"Overwhelmed?" Emily asks. "I don't blame them," she says. "How about you?"

"I'm—okay," Leighton hesitates. She's not sure why, but she's not angry at Hotch, and even understands why he did it. Maybe it's best she can take a step back from this. That doesn't mean she'll accept Hotch's deception right away. It's already bleeding through in Morgan's and Reid's behavior; they both have issues with what JJ and Hotch kept from them. "But mostly for Reid and Morgan."

Emily nods. "You have no idea how much I appreciate that," she says. She realized a long time ago that if she ever came back it wouldn't be easy for her. Part of her wanted to think of it as unfair, because she had little other choice, but she knows she can't. Everyone on the team mourned her death, she merely regretted the distance she had to take from them. "I was sorry to hear about Ashley."

"Yeah." Leighton casts down her eyes. Morgan almost lost himself in his guilt over Ashley—after losing Emily it was too much for him to take. And now, that was all for nothing? "She's doing well," Leighton says to distract herself. She meant what she told Morgan; this wasn't Emily's fault. "It's hard work, but that's not going to stop her."

Emily nods.

"It's really good to have you back, Emily," Leighton says, putting a hand on Emily's arm. Others have said it, mostly JJ and Garcia, but it can't hurt Emily to hear it from someone else as well. In time Morgan and Reid will say the same thing.

"Thanks." Emily smiles.

* * *

><p><strong>(5)<strong>

The abandoned paper mill they track Doyle's movements to is a logistic nightmare. The mill consists of three buildings, two separate mills and a powerhouse, all with multiple entrances and exits and not enough points around the buildings for snipers to cover them all. Rossi and JJ take one SWAT team inside Mill One, while Emily and Hotch make their way through Mill Two with another SWAT team.

"Keep your eyes peeled, guys," Morgan says, Leighton and Reid by his side as they enter the powerhouse, SWAT members fanning out to cover adjacent rooms in the building. The mill had been idle since 2000, a fine layer of dust covering the floor and whatever equipment had been left behind. The footprints in the dust meant someone has been there very recently.

Shots sound from outside, probably from one of the other buildings. "Keep moving," Morgan orders, even though he doesn't really need to tell Reid or Leighton that. The word '_clear_' resounds in their earpieces several times before they hear hurried footsteps in their section.

"FBI!" Morgan shouts, trying to discern anything in the darkness. "Freeze!"

But all they see is Doyle running from them, shooting back at them without looking. Morgan takes off after Doyle without thinking, without giving out any orders, without calling in SWAT. He takes off so fast that he misses Reid screaming, and falling to the floor.

"Spence!" Leighton shouts. _Oh no, oh God no_, Leighton thinks as she runs over to him.

Reid squirms on the floor. When Leighton turns him over she sees the bullet hit him in the chest, caught in the 'B' on his vest. _Thank God_. "I'm okay," Reid chokes out in pain, curling in a fetal position on the ground. "I'm okay!" he coughs. "Just go!" he calls, and Leighton realizes she let Morgan chase after Doyle on his own. _Damn it_, she curses herself.

"_We got an officer down on the south end of the perimeter_," Leighton communicates through the microphone attached to her bulletproof vest, and knows that a SWAT member will make his or her way to Reid to look out for him. Then she gets up, hoping to find Morgan quickly. "_We got an armed suspect, possibly Ian Doyle, north of the powerhouse_," Leighton shouts in her microphone, while keeping up a steady pace. Morgan should have been the one to do that.

It's when a gunshot resounds through the compound that Leighton breaks out in a sprint.

She has to push through three doors before she reaches Morgan, outside in a large courtyard surrounded by fences with barbed wire. Morgan's holding Doyle at gunpoint—Doyle's been shot in the shoulder, his gun on the ground and otherwise unarmed.

"Morgan, what are you doing?" Leighton asks, moving in, her gun trained on Doyle as well. But Morgan doesn't say anything. Was he planning on executing Doyle, Leighton wonders, is that what he's been building up to all these months? "Think about what you're doing, Morgan," Leighton says, not once losing sight of Doyle. "You're better than this."

But Morgan only takes a step closer to Doyle, and shoots him in the leg. Doyle falls down on the ground.

"Morgan, don't!" Leighton calls out. Her heartbeat spikes, adrenaline rushing through her veins, breathing hard. What the hell is she supposed to do? This isn't Morgan, this isn't the man she's gotten to know and respect. "Morgan, he's not worth it."

A smile creeps to the corners of Ian Doyle's mouth, despite the fact that he's in a considerable amount of pain. "Go ahead then, Agent," he says, hands raised in surrender. "Shoot me yourself."

"Shut up!" Morgan shouts. "Just shut up!"

"Morgan, if you do this you'll never forgive yourself." Leighton shakes her head, how is she supposed to temper Morgan's rage at this point? He's already crossed a line they shouldn't. "_Please_, Derek," she adds. "This is what he _wants_. Emily wouldn't want this, Derek."

Morgan hesitates; his head feels hot with anger, his heart racing a thousand miles an hour. _Emily wouldn't want this?_ he wonders, no, she'd want to do it herself. He shakes his head, his anger making way for sorrow, tears touching his eyes. Emily. _Alive_. "You got him?" Morgan asks, doing everything in his power to keep his voice steady.

"I got him," Leighton assures him, her left-hand finger keeping a steady pressure on the trigger of her gun. "Hands behind your head, Doyle."

Morgan holsters his weapon and grabs his handcuffs off his belt. He moves in to make the arrest, Doyle sitting up on his knees unsteadily.

Morgan doesn't know how it happens, or where the shot comes from. It wheezes just past his left ear, and hits Doyle right between the eyes. "Tanner, get down!" Morgan shouts, dropping to the ground himself, trying to get back to Leighton.

"_Who the hell is shooting?_" Leighton shouts over the intercom.

"_It's not us, ma'am_," a male SWAT member calls back.

"Stay down," Morgan orders, but Leighton has no intention of moving.

Two buildings to the south, on a rooftop higher up than all the surrounding ones, Clyde Easter disassembles his sniper rifle without watching the aftermath of his shot. He came here for one thing and one thing alone— he doesn't need to see the ambulance take Doyle away, see the BAU question where the shot came from. He doesn't even need to see Emily. This was payback for what Doyle did to his team.

* * *

><p><strong>(6)<strong>

It's only a few hours later, but no one has been able to figure out who shot Doyle. Morgan had thrown around the idea the sniper had been Doyle's. "Maybe he decided he wasn't going to be taken alive this time," he says, anything to avoid talking about what happened in that courtyard. He knows he crossed the line, not just in his professional conduct, but with Leighton as well. She'd seen a side of him he didn't even know he possessed.

"Sniper could've taken us out," Leighton says, tossing an empty styrofoam cup in the trash. The tea in the hospital vending machine tasted like hot liquid sugar, but it relieved the tiredness in her body.

"Whatever." Morgan shrugs. "I'm not going to dwell on it."

"We got Declan. You got your man," Leighton says. "And Emily—" but at the sound of Emily's name, Morgan casts down his eyes. She can't be sure, but Leighton thinks she detects a hint of shame. "What's the matter?"

"It's just—" Morgan starts, but he doesn't know what he means to say. Emily is back. Emily's _alive_. There's a place in his heart for her that she always occupied, a place that Leighton helped heal these past eighteen months. He can't be anything but happy that Emily's alive, but accepting that his feelings of loss weren't real, _unjustified_, that'll take some time to process. "Let's just leave it at _I'm happy to have her back_."

"Okay," Leighton nods, thinking it best to leave things alone for now. They'll have more explaining to do later. "I better go check on Spence," Leighton adds, and leaves in search of Reid.

"Tanner," Morgan calls after her. He sees Leighton turn to face him. "I get it now," he says. Leighton frowns. "Why you did what you did in San Francisco." Somehow Leighton had found the strength to overcome her grief, she'd found a way not to let the case become too personal despite what she'd lost. And she'd gotten her man too, without firing a shot.

Leighton only smiles in response. She's not okay with what happened out there, she witnessed something so personal and bare, and she feels very uncomfortable knowing it. There will be people asking questions very soon and she needs to figure out what she'll tell them. For now, she needs to focus on Reid— she makes her way down the hallway, and finds Reid on a hospital bed in the ER. "So what's the verdict?" Leighton asks, watching Reid attempting to put on his shirt again. His sternum is black and blue from the impact of the bullet. Leighton walks over to help him button his shirt up.

"A few bruised ribs," Reid answers, wrapping an arm protectively around himself after Leighton has helped him up. They make their way to the front desk so Reid can sign his discharge papers. "Leigh?" Reid asks tentatively. "Do you think you could do that?" he asks. Leighton looks up at him. "Lie to anyone like that?"

Leighton doesn't need to think about it for long. "If it meant keeping someone safe— Yes," she answers.

Reid nods to himself; he can't say he disagrees. But there's a reason why he's asking. "Even if it meant lying to me?" he asks. Leighton looks at him, but never answers his question. Reid knows just as well as her that it's an impossible question to answer.

* * *

><p><strong>if you can, please let me know what you think!<strong>


	26. Staring At The Mess I Made

**author's notes:** this chapter has literally driven me CRAZY this past week, i couldn't get the voices or the emotions right, and i ended up rewriting the whole thing in a matter of a few hours. i thought it felt a bit off, until i realized that was sort of the point? anyway, i hope you all enjoy the new chapter. thank you so much for every single review, you guys, it's so incredibly touching to know how much you're enjoying this story! special thanks to my bb **Inwenalas**.

**characters:** Reid/Leighton (OC), Hotch, Emily, Senator Cramer, Strauss, Garcia, Rossi, JJ, Morgan, mention of Ian Doyle

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

><p><strong>SCARS REMIND US WHERE WE'VE BEEN;;<strong>

****chapter twenty-five********  
><strong>**

* * *

><p><strong>date: <strong>November 4th, 2012

**(1)**

Leighton doesn't pause to knock when she reaches Reid's front door; she grabs her key and lets herself in. Sergio makes his way over to her immediately. "Spence?" Leighton calls out, and checks her watch. They really should get going, Leighton thinks, otherwise they might be late. It's not like Reid to be tardy. Leighton frowns to herself when she finds a cup of coffee standing untouched on the kitchen counter. Now she's getting worried; it's really not like Reid to skip his morning coffee.

She waits a few seconds, hoping Reid will appear from the bedroom or the bathroom, but the entire flat is quiet. She makes her way to the bedroom, Sergio following closely behind, and she finds Reid standing in front of the mirror, fully dressed but for his tie and jacket. "Spence?" Leighton calls again, and sees him catch her eye in the mirror.

"You look nice," Reid says, Leighton's body filling up the mirror behind him. She's wearing a black A-line skirt fitted to her body, and she's let her hair down for the occasion. He wishes it was just any other day, that he could just tell her she looks nice just because she does; he wants to pretend that she looks the way she looks because it's any other day at work. Except it isn't just any other day. Today they'll be explaining their actions in the Doyle case in front of a Senate Committee.

"Thanks." Leighton smiles. "Need some help?" she asks, but doesn't wait for an answer to walk over to him. They've barely had a decent conversation these past few days; Reid's hurting over what Hotch and JJ kept from them, and Leighton's struggling with what she saw Morgan do to Ian Doyle. Maybe things will get easier again after today, Leighton thinks. But so far she hasn't really been able to convince herself.

She takes a deep breath, her stomach already upset with stress. It doesn't help that Reid remains silent as well. She turns up the collar of his shirt, and grabs the two ends of his tie.

"You know we'll need to give Sergio back," Reid says, a sadness in his voice, giving Leighton some idea of where his mind has wandered. For the past few days Reid had mostly closed himself off from certain topics: Emily, the hearing, Hotch's deception. He refuses to talk about it, even though he has to realize Leighton understands how he feels.

"I wasn't aware you'd grown so attached," Leighton says, knotting Reid's tie. She can't believe they're actually having a conversation about Emily's cat, but she'd take just about anything at this point. She nudges the finished knot of the tie up to Reid's top shirt button, and pulls his collar down again. "You know you don't have to be nervous, right?" Leighton asks, but knows she's talking about herself more than anything.

"I'm not nervous," Reid answers. He's not sure what he's feeling, but it's been nagging at him for the past few days, especially when he found out JJ knew that Emily was alive all along. How could she not have told him? How could she just ignore the pain he was in? How could JJ, easily his best friend, not see how close he got to completely losing himself?

Leighton smoothens her hands down Reid's shirt. He knows she's struggling too, for different reasons, but that doesn't mean her problems are any less important. "What's wrong?" Reid asks, even though he can guess. There was a time, perhaps even several times that Leighton was deemed reckless, like Morgan was with Doyle. The first time she paid for it dearly, not just physically and mentally, but her job had been on the line as well. If she tells the Committee what really happened, Morgan could easily get suspended, or worse, lose his job altogether.

Leighton shrugs. She doesn't really want to talk about it either; she's told Reid what she saw, but it's her dilemma: what will she tell the Committee? Leighton shakes her head. "You remember what we talked about before—all this happened?" she asks, figuring this is a topic she doesn't have to avoid.

"About moving in together?" Reid asks. Leighton smiles, but her smile falters when Reid turns and grabs his jacket from the bed. "Everything's been so hectic lately, it's hard to—" Reid frowns to himself, shrugging his jacket on. "Can we talk about this later?" he asks.

"Yeah," Leighton answers. Reid leaves the room. "Sure," Leighton mutters to herself, and follows Reid out the door.

* * *

><p><strong>(2)<strong>

Any moment now Leighton will be called before the Senate Committee. JJ, Emily and Reid had already been questioned, and they've been kept separated from the others in order to avoid influencing each other's testimonies. Leighton thinks it's ridiculous, but only because she could really use Reid's support right about now.

What is she going to tell the Committee? The truth? That Morgan shot Doyle point blank range while he was unarmed? Something tells her that the unknown sniper would have taken Doyle out either way, but that didn't change anything about what Morgan did. He crossed the line, he violated his oath because he was angry, because he wanted revenge.

Leighton leaves the restroom still unsure of what she'll do. Should she have Morgan's back, her _partner's_ back, like he's had hers on countless occasions? Or should she stay true to her own oath, even though that could cost Morgan his job? She runs into Hotch before she makes up her mind.

"Everything okay?" Hotch asks.

Leighton snickers. "It's funny—" She shakes her head. "I told Spence this morning not to be nervous, and I'm the one—" She looks up at Hotch; she can't believe her palms are sweating. Somehow she thought she'd become better at this. "What do I tell them?" Leighton asks. She's desperate, she'll take advice from anyone right now. And after everything that's happened, she still trusts Hotch.

"Tell them—" Hotch starts. He can't tell her to tell the truth, what kind of a hypocrite would that make him? He can't order her to do anything she's not comfortable with. "Tell them whatever feels right," he says. Leighton nods slowly, picking at her fingernails. "Leighton, for what it's worth, I'm sorry about my part in all of this."

Leighton's hands drop to her sides. "This wasn't your fault, Hotch," she says, and shakes her head. There's a part of her that wants to ask Hotch why, why did he put her on the team knowing Emily was still alive? Why would he allow her to become close to everyone, _become_ a part of the team, and take Emily's place? But she never asks. She likes the thought of her healing the team, and the team healing her in return.

"I'm—_sorry_," Hotch says, struggling for words. Leighton can't remember ever seeing Hotch like this. Morgan and Reid shouldn't be too hard on Hotch, they might have lived in ignorance for the past year, but Hotch _knew_. He knew what he was begging of his team, and what could happen if they ever found out. Leighton can't imagine what he must have been through. Deep down she believes Morgan and Reid realize this as well as anyone. "For everything."

"This team is the best thing to happen to me,—" Leighton says, "_boss_," she adds. "I think you know that."

Hotch looks up at her, the ghost of a smile coloring his features. It's all Leighton needs to see to make a decision.

"Agent Tanner," a clerk calls from the other side of the hallway.

"Good luck," Hotch says.

Leighton nods at Hotch, and takes a deep breath, following the clerk down the hall.

* * *

><p><strong>(3)<strong>

"Hey," Emily says, settling down on the bench next to Reid.

"Hey," Reid says, but continues to stare down at his hands.

"Leighton still in there?" Emily asks carefully, looking at Reid sideways. She's happy for Reid, JJ told her that Leighton and him had gotten back together and were going strong, despite a few hiccups along the way. But she knew, deep down she always knew they'd be able to work things out.

"Yeah," Reid answers.

Emily takes a deep breath. "I hear you guys are planning on moving in together," she says, in an attempt to start the semblance of a conversation. There has to be something she can get Reid to talk about. And considering the importance Leighton has clearly taken in Reid's life, maybe that's something for them to reconnect over first, before hitting the heavier stuff again.

Reid whips his head around to look at her. "Where'd you hear that?" he asks, his tone defensive.

"She told me," Emily answers, but quickly realizes she misspoke. Maybe it's too soon, just like it's too soon to talk to Morgan, but she has to try. How can anything go back to what it was before if she doesn't at least try? Maybe it's worse than she thinks, maybe it's too _late_. Maybe they'll never settle back in old patterns. "I'm sorry," Emily says. "I didn't mean to—"

Emily stops talking when Reid gives her no reaction; he focuses his attention on his hands again. It breaks her heart, but she prays that all Reid and Morgan really need is time.

* * *

><p><strong>(4)<strong>

When Reid sees Leighton come back through the doors he finally feels his shoulders relaxing. He'd lied to Leighton this morning, he had been nervous, but not for himself.

"What they ask you?" Reid asks once Leighton sits down next to him.

"What happened after you got shot," Leighton answers, staring out in front of her.

"What did you tell them?"

"The truth," Leighton says, and draws a hand through her hair. "Morgan disarmed Doyle. An unknown sniper took out Doyle before we could secure him." Reid smiles to himself softly; Leighton told him what had really happened the night Doyle died. "What else was I supposed to say?" Leighton shakes her head, but he's sure the question's not entirely directed at him.

"They're just looking for someone to blame," Reid says, and fears that they'll find someone. What Morgan did crossed a line, and no matter what Leighton or any of the others told the Senate they'd realize someone screwed up. Someone always had to take the blame.

"Aren't they always," Leighton says. When Senator Cramer asked her exactly why she let Morgan out of her sight, she never expected he'd ask her about her relationship with Reid. It's true that seeing Reid get shot stopped her short in her tracks, but she thinks she would have done that for anyone. Especially after what happened with Ashley.

_"So, in your opinion, Agent Tanner," Senator Cramer starts, "Would Agent Morgan have brought in Ian Doyle alive if you had attended to your boyfriend?" he asks._

_Leighton knows that he's trying to bait her, but she's made up her mind about this. The team's her second family, Morgan is her _partner_. He's her friend. "I believe he would have, sir," Leighton answers._

"Did you talk to Emily about our plans?" Reid asks, shaking Leighton from her thoughts.

"Yeah," Leighton answers, unsuspecting.

"Why?" Reid asks, "Don't you think that's a little personal?"

"I—" Leighton hesitates. She doesn't want to argue about this, not now. "It was just girl talk." She checks herself. Reid's talking from a place of anger over all of this, over Hotch's secrecy but JJ's even more. "I'm sorry," she adds.

Reid casts down his eyes, and doesn't say anything else. He doesn't want Leighton apologizing; he knows that maybe he's being childish and he shouldn't direct his anger towards Leighton. But he can't help it, he really is angry, it's eating away at him slowly from the inside and this is the only way he knows how to deal. He shuts down and gets rude and doesn't talk about his feelings.

He's reminded of last time they ended up like this, not communicating with each other. It had taken Leighton weeks to talk to him about her nightmares and what happened in San Francisco. Almost everyone on the team thought they'd break up. He can't do that to Leighton now.

Reid reaches over and takes hold of Leighton's hand.

* * *

><p><strong>(5)<strong>

"We're missing you in there," Emily says, joining Leighton at her desk. They're all waiting for Strauss to bring them the Senate's decision, and decided to hang back at the BAU. Everyone had gathered in the conference room.

Leighton smiles. "It's my nephew's birthday," she says, and gets up from her chair. "I wanted to get a call in."

Emily looks around the bullpen, feeling a tinge of nostalgia run through her. She can't help it, this place is her home, these people are her family. Seeing Leighton here with them doesn't hurt her, but she'd be lying if she said she wasn't a little jealous. It's been a year and a half, a long time to get used to someone new, but somehow she'd hoped her spot would still be here for her. Wouldn't Hotch have wanted that for her too?

"We, uhm—" Leighton's voice shakes Emily back to the present, "Reid—" she corrects, but suddenly her correction sounds silly. "_We_ have Sergio," Leighton says, and chuckles. It's not hard to talk to Reid about her feelings anymore, but when it comes to her colleagues she still has some ways to go.

"Oh, you do?" Emily smiles, her face brightening. It's strange, but hearing that Reid took care of Sergio all this time, makes her believe he'll come around eventually. "That's great," Emily says. "Thank you for taking care of him."

"You can pick him up whenever you want," Leighton says.

"Look, Leighton, you don't have to worry," Emily says firmly, saying what she's been meaning to say for a while now. "I'm not here to take your spot."

Leighton takes a deep breath; Emily's right in thinking that it's been on her mind since Emily returned. It feels like such a long time ago that she was clearing Emily's desk with Ashley. "It's yours if you want it," Leighton says.

Emily frowns and shakes her head, wondering if she heard correctly. "What?" she asks.

"I'd be lying if I said this team wasn't the best thing to happen to me," Leighton answers. And she's not talking about Reid, this team came to her at a time when she needed it the most. It showed her what being a team was really about. "I understand what's kept Spence going. The team's his family," Leighton adds. "But it's your family too. And I'm not going to stand in the way of that."

"And what about you?" Emily asks carefully.

Leighton chuckles. "I have a family." A family that's loving, caring and supportive, even if Natalie and her are at odds sometimes. "And I have Reid," she says. "And I already know I'm not going to do this job forever."

Emily nods, but can't bring herself to smile. She understands Leighton's reasoning, and won't try to talk her out of it, but she can't just come back as if nothing happened. "I really wish it was that simple." Emily shakes her head again. Coming back home was all she dreamed about for a very long time, but now that she's back she can see there's things she needs to deal with first. "But I've been gone for over a year," Emily says. "I have some mending to do first."

"Well, whenever you're ready, there's a place here for you," Leighton says.

"Thanks." Emily smiles.

* * *

><p><strong>(6)<strong>

They're all back in the conference room when Strauss joins them. All of them are tired after the long day they've had, but so far their nerves have kept them going.

"Ma'am?" Hotch asks.

"Most of you have been reinstated," Chief Strauss says.

"Wh—" Garcia frowns. "Most of us?"

Strauss takes a deep breath. "Agent Morgan has been suspended pending further investigation," she says.

Leighton feels her heart drop to her stomach, but when she looks at Morgan he merely bows his head, seemingly accepting his fate. She didn't tell the Committee anything; had they figured it out themselves, or did they just choose a random member of the team to blame? Given how Morgan had Declan on surveillance for months without authorization, Leighton imagines they found their scapegoat fairly easy.

"As for Emily." Strauss looks at Emily. "There'll be some significant paperwork given your unique— situation. But I don't see any problems beyond that," Strauss adds. "The team would be lucky to have you."

The room goes dead silent, all eyes focused on Emily.

"I'll need to think about it, ma'am," Emily says. She can't make her decision here and now, not with Morgan's career in the balance, not with Ashley still recovering. More than anything she wants back on the team, _this_ team, but they all know it's not that simple.

Strauss nods. "I'm sorry," she adds, because she didn't want to see this happening. Out of all the teams she's seen come and go, she knows it's this team that's withstood the toughest challenges. She wishes they could have been spared a lot of things.

"It's all right, Erin," Rossi says.

"I'm sure you did what you could, ma'am," JJ says. "Thank you."

Strauss leaves the room with Hotch in tow; there's probably things they still need to discuss, or maybe Hotch is hoping to change Strauss' mind. But they all know it's not up to her this time.

"Well, this sucks," Garcia's voice breaks the silence. "How can they just—"

"Baby girl," Morgan interrupts. "It's okay." Everyone looks at Morgan now.

"You're not the one who killed him," Reid says.

"I know," Morgan answers. "But I would have." The concession comes hard, especially now faced with the people he loves the most. Garcia looks at him helplessly; he walks over and kisses the top of her head. "It's for the best," he says, and leaves the room.

Garcia takes a deep breath, and balls her hands into fists. "I am not okay with this," she says angrily.

"It's out of our hands, kitten," Rossi says, and slowly backs out of the room as well.

JJ and Emily both throw a comforting arm around Garcia. Leighton feels Reid's hand on her shoulder, much to her own surprise, he hardly ever touches her when they're at work. "Go after him," Reid says. Leighton smiles up at him, but doesn't have to think twice about Reid's suggestion.

"Morgan," Leighton calls out, catching up with him at the elevators. "I didn't tell them anything."

"No," he says. "I told them." Leighton frowns and looks at him in confusion, about to say something, but Morgan stops her. "I had to, Leighton," he says, and at the sound of her first name Leighton understands what he's saying. "After what I did—" Morgan shakes his head. "I had to."

"I'm sorry," Leighton says, and she is. She feels sorry for Morgan for having to go through this, because she understands the anger he felt, his need to take down Doyle.

"I'm sorry too," Morgan says. It's the first time Morgan apologizes for what he did, and Leighton's glad she's the first one to hear it.

* * *

><p><strong>(7)<strong>

"What were you and Emily talking about earlier?" Reid asks when Leighton emerges from the bathroom. They're both in their PJs, about to go to bed, but this has been on his mind since leaving the BAU earlier this evening—Leighton and Emily had seemed to be having a very serious conversation.

Leighton shrugs, and sits down on the bed, her back turned to Reid while she loosens up her hair again. "Just a little girl bonding," she says. "And I told her she could pick up Sergio."

"You're thinking about leaving, aren't you?" Reid asks, because he has to. It makes sense; Leighton started out battling a lot of diverse opinions from the others when she joined this team, and she never felt deserving of the place Emily previously occupied. But she has to realize she was never there to replace Emily.

Leighton turns and looks at him. "Excuse me?" she blinks.

"You're thinking about leaving the team," Reid says, lowering his book to his lap, "now that Emily's back."

"I'm—" Leighton frowns. When exactly had Reid puzzled this out? Just by watching Emily and her? "It's her team," Leighton says. Reid bites his lip; he wonders what he can say without coming across as angry, but Leighton's speaking again before he gets the chance to figure it out. "Don't think of it as leaving," she says. "I want to give Emily her place back. It's where she belongs."

"And you don't?" Reid asks, sitting up in the bed and setting his book aside. Leighton belongs with _him_, he thinks, and he really should just tell her that rather than talk around the issue.

"I—" Leighton hesitates again.

"I don't believe this," Reid says, shifting in the bed. How can she do this, how can she even _consider _this? "I mean, after everything we've been through?" he asks. "How can you just—"

That's when it hits Leighton; she scoots close to Reid. "Spence, I'm not leaving _you_," she says, putting a hand on his leg.

Reid casts down his eyes. "Then why does it feel like you are?" he says, finally saying it. If she leaves the team, she'll be leaving him.

"Spencer Reid," Leighton says, forcing him to look up again. "I _love _you," she adds. "And after everything we _have_ been through you should know that."

Reid frowns. "Then why—"

Leighton sighs. "Everyone knows I never fully recovered from what Mumford did to me," she says. Reid looks at her carefully, but Leighton's words come easy now. "Even you know that, Spence. But what got me through is my family and putting away guys like Mumford," Leighton adds. "For Emily those two are the same thing."

Reid stays silent. Leighton's right, he realizes, that's why Emily never said anything about Doyle; he would have attacked the team just to hurt her. The team is his family, but it's Emily's as well.

"You can't push her away forever, Spence," Leighton says. "You'll have to let her back in eventually."

Reid snickers. "Says who?" he asks, but doesn't sound very convincing. He doesn't want to shut Emily out, he's incredibly happy to have her back alive and well, but that doesn't mean the past year and a half can just be erased. Emily was dead, Emily was _gone_, they all mourned her and dealt with her absence. She can't just slide right back in.

"Hey," Leighton says. Reid looks up at her. "I thawed out Morgan, remember?" she says. Reid and Leighton both chuckle. "You love her," Leighton adds, because Reid really needs to hear it.

"Sometimes—I wish I didn't," Reid says. It hurts too much, losing someone. He lies back in the bed, Leighton pulling the covers over them when she lies down in his arms.

"I know," Leighton says, and plants a kiss on his cheek.

* * *

><p><strong>if you can, please let me know what you think!<strong>


	27. Things Can Never Be The Same Again

**author's notes:** my love for this story has surpassed my love for previous favourite fic series :D when i finish this story it'll be my greatest accomplishment and i'll be sad at the same time (ignore me, i'm in a sappy mode). i used a scene from the show in this chapter, mainly because it was one of my favourites, and i knew i could never surpass its emotional impact. thank you so much to everyone that left me a review, i can't reply to all your reviews because some of you have disabled PMs, but know that i appreciate your feedback BEYOND ALL MEASURE! special thanks to **Inwenalas**.

**characters:** Reid/Leighton (OC), JJ, Rossi, Hotch, mention of Morgan and Garcia

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

><p><strong>SCARS REMIND US WHERE WE'VE BEEN;;<strong>

****chapter twenty-six********  
><strong>**

* * *

><p><strong>date:<strong> November, 2012

**(1)**

"What are you doing?" Leighton asks, placing a fresh cup of coffee on his desk.

"Looking for affordable apartments in the area," Reid answers as he circles another advert with red marker. Leighton doesn't get the chance to ask him why he's doing this at work. "Hotch isn't in yet," he explains, studying the newspaper closely.

Leighton leans in to read what Reid just circled. Of the three ads so far, all of them have at least one thing in common. "One-bedroom?"

Reid looks at her and frowns. "Why would we need more bedrooms?"

"To—store things, maybe?" Leighton answers.

Reid nods to himself slowly, wondering if Leighton was trying to be subtle and avoid saying that a second bedroom could be used as a nursery, or if she was trying to disguise the insinuation completely. He doesn't respond to her answer. Instead, he grabs a blue marker and starts circling the ads for two-bedroom apartments.

Leighton sits down behind her desk, going over the case file. He'd already gone through it, and instead of just waiting for Hotch to get here, he thought he'd spend his time more productively. But the more he tries to distract himself the more he starts focusing on that second bedroom. How determined was Leighton to have children? They've only been dating since February, she can't possibly already be planning their future together?

Reid shakes his head; of course not, he thinks. He might not be versed in all the subtleties of relationships, but they both have a one-bedroom apartment now. When he'd suggested they move in together he knew that either their apartments were too small to house both their belongings. A second bedroom was more than prudent planning. It made sense.

Still, ever since Ashley had asked him the question, just like Emily a few years before, he'd been thinking about it more often. When Emily had asked the answer was easy: he was young and single and not in any hurry to be a father. And there was the ever-present fear of passing on genes he still fears himself. When Ashley had asked the same fear had cut through him. He doesn't see himself as a father, no matter how hard he tries. But he can see Leighton as a mother.

"You guys seen Hotch?" JJ calls from the entrance to the bullpen, making her way over to them.

Reid doesn't so much as look up from his newspaper. "Not yet," Leighton says. JJ starts texting on her cellphone immediately. It's not like Hotch to be late, but there's probably a good reason for it.

He feels JJ's presence next to him. "Hey, if you don't want to go through a realtor, I have a friend who does these things very cheap," JJ says, reading along over his shoulder.

"I think we'll manage," he answers.

"Okay," JJ says, but he can hear the hesitation in her voice.

When he looks up to glance at Leighton, he swears she's glaring at him. She'd already pointed out his hostility towards JJ wouldn't go unnoticed forever, and people would address it sooner or later. Luckily for him, Rossi emerges from his office before any such conversation can ensue.

"Hotch not in yet?" he asks, making his way down to them.

JJ checks her phone, and shakes her head. "He just texted me he's on his way up," she says. "Apparently Jack has the chicken pox."

"Not the happiest time in a kid's life," Leighton says. Reid sees her frown; he smiles to himself softly—he thinks the way her brow creases is adorable. "Or a parent's," Leighton adds.

"You all read the case file?" JJ asks. Leighton and Rossi both nod, but Reid doesn't respond. "What do you think?" JJ asks Rossi.

Rossi shrugs. "I think we could use someone with ATF experience," he says.

The room goes eerily silent after that, save for a few other agents that are rummaging about. It's the first time Rossi has expressed any sort of opinion on what happened to Morgan. In fact, most of them had avoided talking about it at all. For grown-up profilers, not to mention FBI agents, sometimes this place felt more like a high school than the BAU.

No one says it, but they all think it. Morgan should be on this case with them.

* * *

><p><strong>(2)<strong>

She wonders if this is what Hotch has been feeling this past year. There's something weighing her down, continually distracting her, hurting her in ways she hasn't experienced before. She feels like she betrayed all her colleagues, and they have every right to be angry with her. But so far Reid's been the only one that's forced her to feel it. It's almost like he's punishing her on purpose, and it's killing her.

"Spence, we need to talk about this," JJ says, following Reid to the room where they set up the evidence boards earlier.

Reid doesn't turn to look at her. "I don't want to talk about it," he says, circling a street name on the map taped to the white board.

"I get it, okay?" JJ says. She needs to do this now, she needs to get all this out; Reid's not going to sit down to talk either way, so she might as well just blurt it all out. She knows Reid; he'll never talk to her first, if at all. "You're disappointed with the way we handled Emily."

Reid looks at her. "I just have a lot going on," he shrugs, putting his hands in his pockets.

"You know what I think it is?" JJ asks, egged on by Reid's passive-aggressiveness. She doesn't want to do this, bait him to talk about it, make him react, even if she doesn't really believe what she's about to say.

"What?"

"You're mad that Hotch and I controlled our micro-expressions at the hospital, and you weren't able to detect our deception." It's not true, she's never believed that, it's Reid's trust issues that's led to this distance between them, but she can't very well open that can of worms.

Reid frowns. "You think this is about my profiling skills?" he asks. JJ shakes her head, trying to stop herself from crying. "Jennifer, listen, the only reason you were able to manage my perception is because I trusted you," Reid says. "I came to your house for ten weeks in a row, crying over losing a friend, and not once did you have the decency to tell me the truth."

JJ swallows hard. "I _couldn't_," she says.

"You couldn't?" Reid asks. "Or you wouldn't?"

"No, I _couldn't_," she stresses, fighting back her tears. She cried with him so many times when he came to her, not over losing Emily, but over betraying him. Doesn't Reid realize that now? Can't he see how much this is killing her?

"What if I'd started taking Dilaudid again?" Reid asks. "Would you have let me?"

The mention of the word almost stops her heart beating. Why does he bring this up? To hurt her more? To tell her exactly what kind of pain he'd been going through all those weeks? He can't be serious. "You—" JJ starts, uncertain suddenly. "You didn't," she adds. Had she been selfish in thinking her comfort would be enough?

"No," Reid says. "But I thought about it."

JJ shakes her head again. "Spence, I'm sorry," she says. What more can she say? What more can she _do_?

Reid casts down his eyes. "It's too late," he says, and turns to the evidence boards again.

JJ doesn't know what else to say, so she's almost grateful when Leighton walks in. "Hey, you guys—" Leighton says, but JJ doesn't stick around to listen to the rest of the conversation. She turns and leaves the room, paying no attention to anyone. All she wants to do is get to the restroom before bursting out into tears.

"JJ?" Hotch's voice sounds from the other side of the hallway.

"I'm fine," she says, even though Hotch didn't ask anything. "I just have something in my eye."

But she knows she's not fooling anyone.

* * *

><p><strong>(3)<strong>

"Hey Spence, you want to go catch a movie?" JJ asks, watching Leighton and Reid get their things together at their desks. For once they'd gotten back from a case at a reasonable hour. Hotch had already gone home, Rossi was visiting Ashley in the hospital, and Garcia was out with Morgan. She could go home to spend time with Henry and Will, but things have been strained at home lately because she's been stressed. Resolving this thing with Reid will be one step back in the right direction.

"We have to make up for missing Halloween," JJ adds, a hopeful smile coloring her features. After Emily coming back and taking out Doyle, most of Reid's Halloween spirit had dissipated. They should make up for that, especially considering how much he loves the holiday.

"That's okay." Reid shakes his head. "Leigh wanted to head home."

Leighton looks at Reid, and judging by the glance she shoots him JJ guesses she had no intention of being put in the middle of this. "Oh, I don't mind," Leighton says. "You go ahead," she tells Reid.

Reid stares at Leighton for countless of seconds before averting his eyes. "You know, I actually have a lot of things to do?" he says, and grabs his bag. "Maybe you two could go." Before either JJ or Leighton can react, Reid walks away, leaving them both behind.

JJ stares after Reid until he disappears out of sight. She'll never see the end of this. Reid will never trust her again. "He hates me," she says.

"No, that's—" Leighton responds all but immediately. "He doesn't hate you. He just has a lot on his mind." Leighton shrugs, but she probably knows it's not fooling her. "You still want to go?"

JJ looks at Leighton, but they probably both know she can use the distraction. "Sure," JJ says.

#

It's close to midnight when Leighton gets home, and she's more than a little surprised to find Reid sitting on her couch. There's only one light on in the room.

"How was the movie?" Reid asks, but his tone is careful, telling Leighton he knows he did something less than admirable. He had to know she'd have to ask JJ for a ride home, everyone else had already gone, and she didn't drive to work in her own car.

Leighton shrugs, dropping her bag on the floor and taking off her coat. "The usual. Lot of blood, lot of screaming." She crosses her arms over her chest, staring down at Reid. "I thought you had a lot of things to do?" She knows she's not being fair, but her own silence never made her this hostile towards anyone, and she doesn't think JJ deserves Reid's anger at all.

"I—" Reid starts, but frowns to himself.

Leighton takes a deep breath and decides to edit herself; Reid's obviously here for a reason. If he really didn't want to talk to her, he could have gone home. "Spence." She sighs, sitting down on the coffee table in front of Reid. "What's really going on?" she asks, and puts her hands on Reid's knees.

"I—" Reid swallows hard, and frowns. "I didn't come to you."

"What do you mean?"

"I came to you after Emily's funeral, but the weeks following her death I didn't—" He averts his eyes. "I didn't come to you." He almost makes it sound like it's a surprise, Leighton thinks, while both of them know very well he didn't come to her back then.

"You went to JJ," Leighton says. It's not a moment's realization. She's always known.

"For weeks I just couldn't—" Reid shakes his head. "It was a month after Emily died and you joined the team, and I just couldn't talk to you, you know?" Leighton gets it; she was too close to him at work to see him so intimately at night. "So I stayed strong, I acted brave. But I always ended up at JJ's." His chin trembles. "With my headaches, and—She never said anything. Not once."

"You know she couldn't," Leighton says softly. "To protect Emily."

"I fought it, Leigh. I thought I'd—" Reid casts down his eyes, his eyes filling up with tears. "I almost lost."

Leighton slides down to her knees on the floor, putting her hands on Reid's face. "What are you—?" She shakes her head, but realizes what he's talking about before she finishes asking. Dilaudid, she thinks, he almost started taking Dilaudid again. "Spence—"

"That night, when I told you about my headaches—" Last summer, not long after Leighton joined the team. She remembers it well; Reid had been trying to teach her to play a tune on the piano. "It saved me," Reid says, finally looking up at Leighton. She feels tears sting her eyes. "You—saved me," he adds tentatively.

Leighton raises herself up on her knees and presses a firm kiss to Reid's lips. She doesn't want credit for that; Reid has to know he's strong enough to fight it on his own, but she's not intent on telling him that now. With everything going on back then, Emily gone and his headaches, she's just glad she got to be there for him in a way she hadn't even realized. She hugs her arms tight around Reid's neck, and doesn't plan on letting go until Reid tells her otherwise.

* * *

><p><strong>(4)<strong>

"Spence gone home already?" JJ asks when she joins Leighton at her desk, but quickly notes that Reid's bag and jacket are gone.

"Yup," Leighton answers, getting up from behind her own desk and flicking out the light.

"And you're still here because—"

Leighton puts on her coat. "I had to catch up on some paperwork."

JJ frowns to herself: why is Leighton avoiding looking at her? Why is she being so short? "Do you need a ride?" JJ asks. Maybe she's imagining things. They're all tired, and know they've got a new case waiting for them tomorrow. JJ had all but given up on having a Thanksgiving with Will or Henry.

But Leighton's reply doesn't convince her she's not the problem. "Nope," she says. JJ guesses that means she's here with her own car, or maybe she'll take the subway to Reid's apartment.

"Okay," JJ says tentatively, and dumps Reid's case file on his desk. Leighton leaves her to her work without even saying goodnight. "Leighton, did I _do_ something?" JJ calls after her. She sees Leighton halt in her tracks, but she doesn't turn around immediately. Leighton usually prefers to avoid conflict, much like Reid, but she won't stand for this anymore. She can only pay for what she did so long. "I understand why Reid is angry, but you—"

"I'm not angry. I'm disappointed." Leighton interrupts, and turns to face her. "He's your friend," she says. "You know he has problems trusting people and that he struggled with Emily's death."

"And you think I didn't?"

"Not like the others did," Leighton says. "You _saw_ how he struggled, JJ," she stresses. JJ saw how Reid struggled, it's true, but she just couldn't tell him about Emily. It was for his own safety, for Emily's safety. "Even if you couldn't tell him the truth you could've encouraged him to talk to someone. Instead of—"

"Talk to _you_, you mean," JJ interrupts in turn.

Leighton casts down her eyes. Of course she means herself, JJ thinks, she knows just as well as Reid that he came to her because he didn't feel like he could talk to Leighton after she joined the team. "He has," Leighton says.

When she looks up again, JJ recognizes the accusation in her eyes. So Reid told Leighton about his struggle with Dilaudid. No wonder Leighton feels disappointed in her now as well.

"The thought of losing him to that _terrifies_ me, JJ," Leighton continues, and she sees her eyes shining with tears. "I never thought it would be real." There's part of her that wants to accuse Leighton of being selfish, for assuming that being with Reid would no longer mean having to deal with his addiction after he beat it the first time. But to be honest, JJ had been selfish in that respect as well.

"I'm sorry," JJ says.

Leighton sighs. "No, I am," she says, and shakes her head. "What you did—it showed incredible strength, JJ." So she wasn't bottling anything up, JJ thinks, Leighton just didn't want to put her through the same thing Reid's putting her through. "And for you to carry that on your own—I can't imagine what you went through."

JJ doesn't acknowledge Leighton's admission in words; she just nods.

"Give him time, JJ," Leighton says. "He loves you. He'll come around."

* * *

><p><strong>(5)<strong>

"JJ, Hotch wants—" the words come out while he's still pushing his way through the door, but when he looks at JJ she has her back turned to him, and she wipes at her face fast when she hears him coming in. "What's wrong?" he asks, realizing he should have knocked first.

"Nothing." JJ shakes her head, and swivels her chair around. "What—" She clears her throat. "What did Hotch want?"

"He uh—" Reid approaches her desk slowly, handing her the folder Hotch gave him a few moments ago. "He needs you to draw up a press release before we head out."

"No problem," JJ says, and opens the file to give it a quick read-through. Reid paces back to the door, but lingers in the doorway. As much as he's been keeping JJ at arm's length he hates watching her hurting like this. Deep down he hopes she wasn't crying solely because he's been pushing her away. "Was there anything else?" JJ asks.

"I'm sorry," he says without looking at her. He's never been good at trusting people, let alone after finding out what lies they've been spinning him, but he loves JJ. And if that doesn't mean he can find the strength to forgive her, then what business does he have letting anyone in? "For the way I've been acting." He knows JJ's silence only shows how well she knows him. "I—I'm sorry."

"Me too," JJ says, and gets up from behind her desk. "Spence, you have to know, if I could've said anything, I would've." He turns to face her, but keeps staring down at his feet. "But I—"

"You couldn't," he says. What JJ did was admirable, he knows that now, she was just keeping Emily safe. He nods, "I understand," and finally looks up at JJ; it's harder than he thought it would be, probably because they both realize all too well what they put each other through.

But JJ smiles at him nonetheless. He's grateful for that.

"You know, I am a pretty skilled profiler," he says, hands in his pockets. "You can't fool me."

JJ doesn't ask what he's talking about. "I—" She shakes her head, avoiding his eyes. "I made Will promises about Thanksgiving," she says, "and now we have a new case."

He knows JJ and Will have been having problems for a while now, especially since she returned to the BAU. It's one of the same reasons he doesn't want to see Leighton go either—he doesn't think Leighton will ever blame him the hours if that day comes, but he prefers having her around, even if they're perfectly professional out in the field. Will might've been a cop, but he never faced BAU hours. "I'm sure he'll understand," Reid answers, and puts a hand on JJ's shoulder.

"Thanks, Spence," JJ says, and puts her own hand over his.

* * *

><p><strong>if you can, please let me know what you think!<strong>


	28. Thanksgiving

**author's notes:** sorry for the delay in update! another fandom demanded i write it a tiny story, and how have i ever resisted plotbunnies, especially when they involve Tarsem's new movie _Immortals_ (he's my favourite director IN THE WORLD!)

anyway, new chapter, a silly interlude that i felt was much needed after all the angst in the past few chapters :) i can't promise a swift next update, with the holidays and my exams coming. i really hope you all like the new chapter, thank you so much for all the reviews and comments! super special thanks to my girlie **Inwenalas**.

**characters:** Reid/Leighton (OC), Rossi, JJ, Hotch, Ashley, Morgan, Will, Henry, Garcia, Jack, mention of Kevin

**warning:** not all of these scenes are chronological!

* * *

><p><strong>SCARS REMIND US WHERE WE'VE BEEN;;<strong>

****chapter twenty-seven********  
><strong>**

* * *

><p><strong>date: <strong>November 22nd, 2012

**(Rossi)**

He watches closely as Hotch applies the icepack to his shoulder.

"Some Thanksgiving, hu?" Leighton says, eyes focused on Hotch as well.

Granted, they'd spend the better part of the past three days in a small precinct room, drinking bad coffee and eating junk food. He doesn't even want to think about the small amount of sleep he'd gotten. All of them had called their family or friends to say they probably wouldn't make Thanksgiving dinner.

Luckily they'd caught a break in the case late last night, and managed to make an arrest in the early hours of the morning. It had resulted in a high-speed chase and Hotch manhandling the UnSub out of his car, but they'd caught their guy.

It'd be close to eight o'clock in the evening by the time they landed in DC, but they could still work something out. "Day's not over yet." Rossi shrugs, and looks at everyone on the plane, JJ to his left, Hotch sitting across the narrow aisle, Reid and Leighton opposite him. "What do you say? Take-out at my place?"

Everyone stares at each other in complete silence.

It's Leighton who reacts first. "I could make pie," she says.

Hotch, Rossi and JJ all stare at her. Leighton raises an eyebrow, while Reid suppresses a smile.

"Yes, I can cook," Leighton says. "Don't look so surprised."

"I already told Will I'd meet him at my parents." JJ shakes her head. "Sorry."

"That's okay," Rossi says. He knows Will and JJ have been going through a tough time, juggling Henry and JJ's renewed commitment to the BAU. Maybe it's best she spends tonight with her own family. "Hotch?" He looks at their fearless team leader expectantly.

"I'd have to bring Jack," he says.

"The more the merrier!" Rossi exclaims. "I'll give Morgan and Emily a call."

"And Garcia," JJ says.

"—and Garcia," he adds, grabbing for his cellphone. "And I'll pick up Ashley."

Now there's a Thanksgiving worth having; an evening doesn't have to be traditional to be a holiday. Thanksgiving's all about being grateful for the things in life, and he'll never be more grateful for his team.

"What's going on?" Ashley asks as soon as she sees Morgan and him walk into her room in the hospital. The doctors had told her she could go home, on the condition that she'd come to physical therapy every day, but Ashley had thought it easier to take up residence in the rehabilitation clinic for a while—her building didn't have any wheelchair access, and walking with crutches was still a big task.

"Strap up, kiddo," Rossi says. "We're celebrating Thanksgiving at my place and you can't miss it."

Ashley looks at Morgan. "Is he being serious?" she asks.

Morgan shrugs. "Seems to be."

"Why is everyone acting so surprised at my willingness to celebrate with all of you?" Rossi asks. When has he ever given his team reasons to doubt his loyalty or care for them? But then he thinks this has a lot more to do with his out-of-character cheer. He can't help it; he's always loved Thanksgiving.

"Last time we invited ourselves to your _mansion_ you weren't this willing," Morgan answers, but both him and Seaver break out laughing.

He shakes his head, but smiles. He supposes that as the oldest team member it's only fair he gets all the 'dad' jokes, or has all the 'children' laughing at his expense. As long as he gets their respect, love and trust along with that, it's something he can learn to live with.

* * *

><p><strong>(Leighton)<strong>

"You know we could probably still make Chesapeake if we leave now," Reid says, following Leighton down the aisle while she browses the store for ingredients.

Leighton shrugs. "There are other holidays," she says, and points at a bag of flour just out of her reach. Reid reaches up, and places the bag in the shopping basket he's carrying.

"And this is part of the family too," Leighton adds, smiles, and nudges him with her elbow.

Reid grins.

Leighton knows he's thinking of her before himself, about her own family and how much she misses them sometimes. It's not that she believes Reid dislikes her family, in fact she thinks he found something in her family dynamics that was always missing in his own. But the team makes up for that absence as well.

"Apple pie," Reid muses. Leighton takes hold of a Granny Gold, puts it to her nose, and breathes in deeply. It's something she saw her grandmother do every time she bought apples, whether it was for pie or not. "Is this the infamous Grandma Evelyn recipe?"

Leighton nods. "The best kept Tanner family secret."

"What was she like?"

"My grandma?" Leighton asks, and looks at Reid. It's strange she's never spoken to him about her grandmother that much, even though Reid knows she meant a lot to her. "She was one of those people who called everyone _honey_." Leighton smiles to herself, her first memory of her grandmother a tiny cup of tea with milk. "She gave herself completely. To her family. To her work. She never asked for anything in return, of course, but she was repaid in love."

She picks up the final apple, and places it in the shopping basket.

"You would've liked her," Leighton adds, feeling nostalgic for her own childhood suddenly. "And she definitely would've liked you."

"Why is that?" Reid frowns.

"She always told me to find someone smart," she says. "And tall."

"Tall?"

"That wasn't even optional." Leighton chuckles, and shakes her head. Her grandmother was very tall herself; her grandfather wasn't. "Someone who could protect me, and take care of me, and—" she swallows the word too late.

"And?" Reid asks.

Leighton averts her eyes. "Give her lots of grandbabies," her voice trails off. She doesn't mean to bring this up time and time again, but somehow it manages to crop up in a lot of their conversations. She's not ready to be a mother, no matter how much she wants to be one some day; and Reid and her are definitely not ready to be parents.

"I guess I've already got the tall and smart going for me."

Leighton looks up at Reid; did she just hear him say that or was it her imagination?

"You know, my mom's been asking too," he says, and looks down at the groceries.

"Your mom?" Leighton blinks. She doesn't put it beyond Diana Reid to bring this up in private conversations with Reid, in fact, she's had conversations with her own mother and sister about being thirty and still baby-less. But Reid's never brought this up himself. "What—did you tell her?" Leighton asks.

"I didn't tell her anything," Reid says, in such a way that tells her she already should've known the answer. Reid looks up again but still avoids her eyes. "I didn't know—" He shakes his head. "I _don't_ know—"

Leighton takes a step closer. "We don't have to talk about it," she says, because things just got awkward fast and she doesn't want the rest of their night to be the same. And they really don't have to talk about it, not now, or for a long time to come. It's clear to her now that it makes Reid feel very uncomfortable.

"Yet," Reid adds.

Leighton's forced to look at Reid again, but she detects no hesitation on his part. He leans in, and presses a kiss to her lips. When he pulls back, he's smiling, even though Leighton can't tell if he's really happy or if he thinks that's what she wants to see.

Leighton chuckles nonetheless. "Yet," she repeats.

She doubts there'll be any other baby talk in their immediate future. In truth she shouldn't bring it up at all in the first place. She knows she loves Reid unlike anyone else before, and despite his own reservations she has less problems picturing Reid as a father than she does picturing herself as a mother. When Reid doesn't know something, he reads up on it—if the time ever does come along, she imagines he'll know more about the practicalities of parenthood than JJ and Hotch combined.

But she also knows that won't take away Reid's major insecurities.

"How's the apartment hunt going?" Garcia asks later in the evening, helping Leighton slice the pie.

"Slow." Leighton chuckles, accepting another plate from Garcia. "Which isn't surprising when you have a boyfriend who knows the ins and outs of every building regulation in the book." She looks up at Garcia, licking a piece of pie off her thumb. "I think it'll be a while before we settle on one."

"I've never heard you call him that," Garcia says.

"Call him what?"

"_Boyfriend_." Garcia beams. She's right, Leighton thinks, she's only ever used the word once or twice, but never to describe Reid to her colleagues. "Feels good, doesn't it?" Garcia asks.

Leighton looks at Reid over her shoulder; he's explaining the origins of Thanksgiving to Henry and Jack. It does feel good, and however much trouble Reid has picturing himself as a father, it's not hard for her at all. He's smart– just like her grandmother always wanted; more than anything his own childhood will be a cautionary tale to him.

* * *

><p><strong>(JJ)<strong>

She drops her keys in the designated dish and sighs deeply, leaning back against the door. Maybe she should have taken up Rossi's offer—if she wants to make it to her parents house at a decent time she should probably leave right now, but she'd much rather take a shower first and already get something to eat before hitting the road.

"Mommy?" she hears a voice coming from the living room— _Henry's_. JJ frowns to herself, but shoots in action, rounding the corner to find Henry and Will on the couch together, watching television.

"What are you guys doing here?" JJ asks, but can't suppress a smile, or ignore the weight lifting off her shoulders just at seeing the two of them. Henry runs over; she catches him in her arms.

"We hopped in the car the moment you called," Will says, getting up from the couch. "We wanted to spare you the long drive."

Tears sting her eyes. She hates that she's the one that created a distance between them by going back to the BAU. But as much as she enjoyed her work at the Pentagon it didn't give her the fulfillment her previous job always gave her. She wasn't helping people. Still, she was thinking of herself first, before thinking of her family. Maybe that was wrong.

"I love you," JJ breathes, lowers Henry to the floor, and throws her arms around Will's neck.

"Happy Thanksgiving," he whispers.

"I wish I'd known sooner," JJ says, and wipes her tears away. "Rossi invited us all for take-out at his place."

"Jack be there?" Henry asks.

Will and JJ look down at their son. "I guess we're going out after all," Will says.

"We don't have to—" JJ shakes her head. She shouldn't have said anything in the first place. If she wants to make things right between her and Will she's the one who'll have to make a few concessions here and there. And that starts with taking time away from the team to spend it alone with her family.

"No." Will smiles. "Sounds great."

"Are you sure?"

Will nods. "Thanksgiving should be spent with family."

When they arrive at Rossi's, Emily opening the door, she can hear Garcia complaining to Rossi.

"How come they get to enter the inner sanctum?" Garcia asks, and JJ sees her gesturing to Leighton and Kevin, who are probably busy making that pie Leighton promised.

"They know how to cook," Rossi answers, and leaves a very perturbed Garcia behind just outside of the kitchen. Luckily she cheers up again when she catches sight of Henry coming her way. JJ knows Rossi's reluctance to let Garcia enter the kitchen started when she replaced the pancetta in one of Rossi's own recipes with tofu.

"Hey, guys," JJ says, while Will makes his way further into the living room to greet everyone. "I brought the wine."

Reid's the first one to make his way over to her. "I'm glad you could make it," he says, and in his eyes JJ sees nothing but sincerity. It'll be a while longer before they're back to where they used to be, Reid has to open himself up to trusting her again and she needs to learn she'll probably never be Reid's number one go-to girl again. But at least he's not angry with her anymore.

"Happy Thanksgiving," JJ smiles, and hugs Reid, before moving on to the others.

* * *

><p><strong>(Hotch)<strong>

His shoulder still twitches when he helps Jack put his sweater on.

"Where we going, daddy?"

"Where _are_ we going," Hotch corrects, and grabs Jack's coat. "Over to Uncle Dave's to celebrate Thanksgiving."

"What about Aunt Jessica?" Jack asks.

Hotch stops zipping up Jack's coat, and looks at his son. It doesn't matter to him where he celebrates Thanksgiving; he hadn't even expected to be home for the holiday. He'd be just as content to spend the night alone with Jack, watching Disney movies. "Would you rather celebrate with her?" Hotch asks.

"I wanna celebrate with you, daddy," comes Jack's reply. Sometimes Hotch thinks Jack's getting too smart for his age; he envies him that childhood innocence, because he knows how precious it is. He's grateful that despite everything that's already happened to their family, Jack manages to hold on to that.

Hotch smiles. "Let's go."

It's Morgan who opens the door when they ring the doorbell at Rossi's. "Hey, Uncle Morgan," Jack smiles, and pushes past him in the doorway.

"Hey, buddy," Morgan says, but Hotch is pretty certain Jack didn't even hear Morgan's response.

Morgan turns without addressing him, so he follows behind in silence. Leighton and Kevin are busy in the kitchen, while the rest of his team, including Will and Ashley is gathered in the living room, setting the table together. Jack joins Henry in front of the television.

He has such admiration for all these people. He doesn't care what his bosses tell him— there's no such thing as too much familiarity within a single team. He's grateful for his team, that they're friends, that some of them are _best_ friends, or even closer than that. What's wrong with Garcia's and Morgan's occasional flirting if it's something they both need to alleviate the pressures of the job? What's unprofessional about Leighton and Reid's relationship when they're hard-pressed to touch each other even now?

This team's his rock, however much people like to think it's only his job—it's only because of these people he works with that he's kept going for so long, that he'll continue to go on.

"It's still your team, Hotch," Morgan says, and it makes Hotch realize he's been staring.

Hotch doesn't look at Morgan. "You think they'll ever forgive me?"

Morgan sighs. "I think they already have."

When Morgan extends his right hand Hotch feels something in his chest swell. He takes Morgan's hand, and shakes it. He couldn't have asked for a better gift.

* * *

><p><strong>(Emily) <strong>

"Hey, are you okay?" Emily asks when she finds Ashley squirming uncomfortably on the couch. Ashley nods, but it doesn't convince Emily in the slightest. "How's the physical therapy going?" she asks, because Ashley's always been able to confide in her; she hopes at least that hasn't changed.

"Slow," Ashley answers. "But I can walk by myself."

"That's good." Emily smiles. "You'll be back at work in no time."

But at the sound of her words Ashley averts her eyes, and has trouble fighting back tears.

"I'm— sorry," Emily says. Did she say something wrong? She'd thought Ashley would be happy at the prospect of returning to the BAU once she was better. "I didn't mean to—"

Ashley shakes her head, and takes a deep breath. "It's okay," she says. "It's just—I don't think I'll ever be back in the field. With the damage to my spine—" She shakes her head again.

Emily knows Ashley's been going through some pretty extensive physical therapy to get back on her feet, just like she had after her run-in with Doyle, but she never considered the possibility that Ashley might be permanently damaged. Physically that is, because mentally most – if not all of them – are already scarred for life.

"Ashley, I'm so sorry."

"I've only told Rossi so far," Ashley says, only then looking her in the eyes. "I'd appreciate it if you could keep it to yourself for a while."

Emily nods. "Of course."

She understands Ashley's reluctance to tell everyone now, especially tonight when they're all joined together in celebration, and bad news would only put a damper on things. Even Reid and Leighton, who are usually so economic about their interactions when anyone is looking, are now huddled close together while Reid shows Henry and Jack magic tricks. She loves seeing everyone like this, more a family than a work unit, relaxed and joking around.

But when Morgan joins Leighton and Reid at the table, the three of them laughing freely, a hint of jealousy still touches her heart. It's selfish of her to think so, because Leighton's no doubt worked hard for it, but she can't help but think Leighton stole her spot from her. It's completely ridiculous as well, of course, because Morgan has already expressed how happy he is to have her back.

"Morgan loves you, you know," Emily tells Leighton later, when dessert has come and gone and JJ and Hotch have said goodnight to everyone.

Leighton snickers, and nods. "It uhm—" she starts, and fails to contain a smile. "It took me long enough."

Emily can't help but wonder how long that was. If the progression in Leighton's relationship with Reid is any indication she guesses she can't be too jealous of Leighton. She might have a place within the team now, but it can't have been easy for any of them to let her in.

"So you guys are really doing it," Emily says, in an attempt to steer the conversation to a less painful subject. "You and Reid."

JJ had filled her in on everything that had happened, Reid's aneurysm, Leighton losing her friend Sylvia and facing Mumford again. Somehow she'd always known Reid and Leighton would work it out, and she's happy that despite all the hardships they have each other now, and manage to hold onto each other more tightly.

Leighton smiles, mostly to herself. "I guess we are," she says.

"Life's too short, hu?" Emily asks, and the same question echoes somewhere in their past. Things were so different when they first met; Leighton was in a much worse place—in many ways their roles were the reverse of what they are now; now Emily's the one still healing, and Leighton has a firm and comfortable spot within the team.

Leighton looks at her, and smiles openly now. So much has changed, but their rapport hasn't. Their conversation comes as easy as ever, because they're alike in many ways.

"Something like that, yeah," Leighton says.

* * *

><p><strong>(Reid)<strong>

"You know you're not at work, right?"

He smiles to himself as Emily settles down next to him on the couch. He's grateful she never gives up, that she keeps approaching him in the hopes that their conversation will come easier now.

"What?" he asks, because he has no idea what she means.

"You're staring," Emily answers, and points at Leighton across the room. He smiles to himself privately; he can't help it—his eyes are drawn to Leighton because she's become a center in his world, one of only a few really important ones. But showing affection for her in front of his colleagues—they're his friends too, and there's nothing professional about this night, but it's not easy for him to just tiptoe that boundary.

"I know," he says, and stares down at his hands.

Silence stretches between them; he wonders if Emily had prepared a long speech before sitting down next to him, and now keeps quiet because he is, or if she's telling him it's his turn to make an effort. He was never angry with Emily like he was angry with JJ; Emily fought for her life and faced Doyle alone to protect all of them—she never lied to him.

"Emily," he starts, still undecided about whether or not he has to address this at all. But in the spirit of Thanksgiving, maybe it's best that he does. "I'm sorry." Emily looks at him. "For the way I acted."

Emily shakes her head, but he can tell how much his words mean to her. That's all he needed to know. Emily reaches over and takes his hand, giving it a squeeze, but she doesn't say a word.

Later that night, when JJ and Hotch are leaving to put Henry and Jack to bed, Leighton and him start on the dishes.

"Everyone liked the pie."

"Serves them right for ever thinking I couldn't cook," Leighton says. He grins; he remembers the conversation they had about Leighton's cooking skills on their first coffee-date. "Grandma Evelyn's recipe never fails."

Reid knows Leighton was always very close to her grandmother; she helped Leighton's parents run the B&B she grew up in and helped raise Leighton and her siblings. She died when Leighton was eighteen. He knows he's the one that brought her up in the first place, but he can't help but be reminded of the conversation they started – and ended – at the supermarket. Leighton told him that they didn't need to talk about this, but part of him needs to.

"Do you—" Reid frowns to himself, staring down at the wet plate wrapped in the towel in his hands. "Do—" but the word still doesn't sound right. He looks at Leighton. "Can you see me—as a father?" he asks, his frown growing even more profound. Is that was he wanted to ask? Is it really something he wants to know? He doesn't need Leighton affirming his fears.

Leighton's eyes go wide for a second, but the look in her eyes mellows just as fast. "I can," she smiles softly. Reid looks away, more confused than ever; he always thought Leighton wanted to be a mother independent of her relationship with him, and that when she found out he was unfit to be a father she'd up and leave. But this—he doesn't know how to handle this. "You know you're not your father," Leighton says, and puts a hand on his arm, but all he feels is the cold sting of something that he thought had already healed.

Leighton's right of course, much of his insecurity stems from the abandonment issues his father put there when he was only ten years old. But he's never talked to Leighton about that. "You've never met my father," he says, looking away.

"But I've met your mom," Leighton says. He looks back up at her, smiling softly. He glad that there's more of his mother in him than there is of his father, even though that brings along a whole string of other fears.

"I'm not—" Leighton starts, keeping her voice low so that no one else can hear their conversation, and takes a step closer. "I'm not looking to be a mother in the near future, Spence." She shakes her head. "It's too soon for us," she says. "I just like the idea—" Leighton adds, and shrugs, looking up at him, "—with you."

His eyes find Leighton's instantly. "Not with—" _not with anyone else_, he wonders. How on earth can Leighton picture him as a father?

But Leighton shakes her head. "No one else," she whispers, reaches up on tiptoe, and plants a soft kiss on his lips. He reciprocates; he doesn't care who sees it.

* * *

><p>#<p>

#

#

what's coming, you ask? next chapter will take place 3 months later, people might come back, there's a certain couple moving in together, then there's more cases to contend with, and yes, there will be more baby talk ;)

**HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO EVERYONE!** i hope you all have a happy New Year. see you all in 2012!


	29. One Year Ago Today

**author's notes:** YOU GUYS! the amount of comments i got these past two/three weeks have been INSANE; you guys seriously rock. therefore this chapter is dedicated to everyone who's leaving me reviews! i know it's been a longer wait than usual, and it's a shorter chapter, but i've been seriously struggling with getting back in the groove of this story after my exam =/ i should warn you that this chapter is unadulterated fluff (so it goes). my undying love and admiration goes out to **Inwenalas** once again - i couldn't have written this chapter without her support.

**characters:** Reid/Leighton (OC), mention of Morgan, Garcia, Rossi, JJ & Prentiss

* * *

><p><strong>SCARS REMIND US WHERE WE'VE BEEN;;<strong>

****chapter twenty-eight********  
><strong>**

* * *

><p><strong>date: <strong>February 2nd, 2013

**(1)**

She's not entirely sure what wakes her up. Maybe it's the light seeping in through the curtains, or Reid moving in the bed, but for once it's not the dulcet sound of a voice reading her the 6am news, a fact she becomes blissfully aware of when she glances at the nightstand, and the radio alarm clock reads 9am.

9 in the morning, Leighton thinks, how long has it been since she slept through the night and woke up at 9? Part of her thinks the answer to that question is 'not once since she joined the FBI' but she knows that's an exaggeration; it just seems that way because the past few weeks have been so hectic.

Leighton thinks that all the loss is weighing them down: with Morgan still on suspension, Ashley on indefinite leave and Emily still recertifying, the team was essentially a profiler short. There was still enough back and forth between Rossi, Reid, Hotch and her, but an extra set of brains never hurt. The past two months had been hellish to say the least. So hellish in fact, that Strauss herself had demanded they all take some time off.

This had been last Wednesday. It's Saturday now, and barring any major incidents work would start again on Monday. Reid and her had spent two days in Chesapeake – Leighton had suggested Vegas but Reid said it was her family's turn –, come home last night, gone to the movies and made dinner together afterwards. Leighton doesn't think free time can get better than this.

She turns in the bed, and finds Reid already awake next to her.

"Morning," he says, rubbing his eyes wearily. He feels the smile cross his lips beyond his control—Leighton has this way of coaxing out spontaneous reactions. His stomach's already making nervous turns, but he hopes it doesn't show.

Leighton smiles. "Hi," she says and turns on her stomach, reluctant to the idea of leaving the bed already.

Reid slides closer to her and kisses her – at a strange angle, but they make it work – and keeps hovering close to her. "Let's go out for breakfast," he says, looking down at her. He thinks she looks beautiful like this, hair messed up and sleep-shot eyes, but just as rested as he is, the troubles of the day still far from their minds. With any luck, there won't be any troubles at all today.

"Okay." Leighton sighs, coiling inside the warmth of the bed covers as Reid gets up to take a shower. She buries her face in the pillow, then giggles—she should not be allowed to sleep late; it makes her entirely too loopy. She turns again and stretches, making a mental note to take Reid's present with her to wherever they're headed.

* * *

><p><strong>(2)<strong>

"Spence, you just—" Leighton says, head turning to see the breakfast place closest to her flat disappear in the distance. She sits back in her seat and stares at Reid. "Where are we going?" she asks.

Reid smiles without looking at her. "You'll see."

They drive for such a long time that Leighton has a hard time convincing herself that Reid isn't taking her to work. But to her surprise they find their way to the Waffle House.

Reid parks the car and looks at Leighton. "What do you think?" he asks.

Leighton smiles to herself, having all the difficulty in the world containing her delight. "I think you're a bigger romantic than people give you credit for," she says, and looks at Reid. He frowns to himself, but seems pleased nonetheless.

Morgan wasn't the only one to ever comment on Reid's complete ignorance when it came to romance; JJ and – from what Leighton's been told – Emily too had addressed his almost total lack of intuition when it came to women. Leighton thinks most of that's unfair, Reid's a great profiler despite his self-proclaimed social awkwardness, and profiling is nothing more than noticing human behavior.

But as they make their way to the restaurant, walking hand in hand, Leighton can't help but wonder if he had any help coming up with the location of their breakfast venue.

This is where they had their very first date.

When she thinks about it that must have been close to their – now official – anniversary as well, except today marked their first year together, while their first date was four years ago. She remembers the day only vaguely; they'd gone to the Waffle House after both coming back from a case really late, but had felt reluctant to cancel on each other again.

She can't remember if she knew back then, if she realized what an important person Reid could become in her life. If she's really honest with herself she knows she saw their potential from the start, and maybe if both of them had been more extroverted and she'd been less damaged, they'd be celebrating more years today. But it doesn't do well to dwell on the past.

* * *

><p><strong>(3)<strong>

The entire team had been skeptical when Strauss ordered mandatory leave. Their track record of actually enjoying some free days was far from laudable—somehow something always managed to come up. He can't even remember taking a day off before meeting Leighton. But the time off has been good for them, if not just to make sure both of them were completely relaxed today.

"Happy anniversary," Leighton says, sliding a present across the table.

"What's this?" Reid asks.

"It's called a present?" Leighton says. "It's customary, though not obligatory."

"You didn't have to get me anything."

Leighton's eyes narrow on his face. "Does that mean I'm not getting a present?"

Reid grins. "I did—actually," he answers. "But it's for the both of us. Morgan—"

"Morgan?" Leighton's eyes go wide. "You asked Mr Serial Dater for anniversary advice?"

Reid's face falls. What did Leighton think he'd do? He didn't have any experience when it came to relationships, let alone anniversaries. Morgan had told him to 'knock her off her socks', though that hadn't really helped him figure out exactly what he should do. Garcia had amended that by telling him to do something romantic, which Rossi said usually involved dinner he should pay for, and a present – possibly jewelry, JJ added – to sweep Leighton off her feet. And as much as he appreciated his team's advice, Emily ended up giving him the best advice.

Emily told him to be himself, and if he was determined to get Leighton a present, it should be something that shows her how he feels about her.

"I asked everyone for advice," he says.

Leighton chuckles. "Open your present," she says, suddenly worried that what she got Reid will be nothing compared to what he got her. She never pegged Reid to be the best at giving presents, but since he asked everyone for advice—maybe he'll surprise her yet.

"_The Collected Works of Edgar Allan Poe_," Reid reads the title aloud.

"A writer still shamefully missing from your collection," Leighton says, then starts worrying again. "Do you like it?" she asks.

"Yeah," Reid answers, quickly looking through the table of contents inside. "He's one of my favorite authors. His horror stories in the Gothic style were termed popular, but they're truly wonderfully macabre. The themes of death and decay—" He looks up at Leighton and clears his throat, but she's smiling at him. _Thank God_, he thinks, he doesn't want to talk about 'death and decay' on a day like this, let alone at the breakfast table.

"Thank you." He grins. "It's perfect."

Leighton's still smiling at him when he reaches for something in his pants pocket, her chin resting in the palm of her hand.

"This is uhm—this is for you," he says, sliding the box across the table in the same fashion Leighton had. Everything he has planned after this is already worth it if it means keeping Leighton smiling. These past few days have been _really_ good for them.

_Jewelry?_ Leighton asks herself, but when she shakes the box nothing inside moves. She undoes the bow carefully and opens the blue velvet box. She pulls the fabric bundle out of the box; it unfolds automatically, but Leighton has no idea what's going on. It's a blindfold.

"Spence," Leighton starts, but doesn't know what to do with this at all. "Wh—"

"It's not what you think," Reid interrupts.

Leighton frowns to herself; she's thinking about sex, and she thinks anyone else would be hard-pressed to think about anything else. "I don't think what I'm thinking is in any way similar to what you think I'm thinking." What _is_ Reid thinking?

Reid frowns as well. "Wh—What are you thinking?" he asks.

Leighton chuckles again. Maybe it's best she keeps her fantasies to herself. "What's it for?" she asks.

"Put it on."

But Leighton only stares at him in suspicion.

"Trust me," he insists.

* * *

><p><strong>(4)<strong>

They drive for another half hour—Leighton has completely lost her bearings, she has no idea where they're going and being in a car blindfolded proves to be a very strange sensation. It's relinquishing a control she's reliant on in her personal and professional life—Reid's lucky she trusts him. She tries her best to keep the questions to a minimum, since Reid seems determined to avoid each and every one of them, but the longer they drive the more her curiosity gets the best of her.

"Can I take if off now?" Leighton asks when Reid helps her out of the car; she can't even imagine what people must think of them right now.

"Not yet," Reid answers, grabbing hold of Leighton's hands before she manages to reach for the blindfold. "Watch your step," he says, leading her inside a front hall – she can tell because it sounds more hollow – and into an elevator.

From what Leighton can gather they go up two or three floors, and walk a good distance before Reid tells her to stop. She's fighting the urge to say something the entire time. She hears Reid take out a set of keys and open a door to her right; he guides her inside carefully, and feels him untying the blindfold moments later.

"Where are we?" Leighton blurts out before taking in the room, blinking hard against the light—her eyes need some time adjusting. When she looks around she doesn't recognize the location.

"One of Morgan's properties," Reid answers.

Leighton turns around, and frowns. "I don't—"

"Understand?" Reid interrupts and grins, while staring down at his feet. He knows he's not good at keeping secrets from Leighton, but he's quite determined to see this through. "Why don't you—profile—profile the scene?" he stutters, having the hardest time to keep himself from just spitting it out.

"There's not much to profile," Leighton says, and looks around the room again. On second thought, they're in a recently renovated apartment. She'd never seen any of Morgan's properties, but she can definitely see him working in here. The apartment opens into a short hall, a broom closet to the right, followed immediately by a half-open kitchen. Passing the kitchen, she walks into the dining room that runs on into the living room.

Reid gives her time to inspect the entire apartment.

"Three bedrooms, two bathrooms," Leighton muses, peeking her head into the third bedroom quickly.

Reid doesn't say a word.

"Well, it's too big for us," Leighton concludes, joining Reid in the living room again. "So we can't be here to put down a deposit." She looks at Reid, but he's giving her no indication that he's going to tell her what's going on.

"Then there's this, of course," Leighton says, her eyes narrowing on the living room table. There's a vase filled with roses on it, and a bottle of—"Champagne," Leighton says as she studies the label. "And a card." She snatches the small card from around the neck of the bottle, and frowns immediately when she recognizes the handwriting. It's Morgan's. "_Congratulations on your new home_," she reads aloud.

Leighton blinks and rereads the card, her mind reeling.

"New home?" she asks, turning to face Reid in the same breath.

She looks around the apartment again. It's a gorgeous apartment, roomy, in order, and she doubts Reid will find any building code violation. All that really needs to be done is the decorating. But it can't be— Reid can't seriously be considering— she can't even think it.

Leighton looks back at Reid. "No." She shakes her head. "We can't afford this."

"I—I asked my mom to help out a little?" Reid says, swallowing hard. They'd agreed they wouldn't ask his mom for help, because Leighton would feel too guilty, but when Morgan had suggested selling one of his properties to them, he couldn't decline the offer. He'd felt guilty himself over taking his mother's money, but this is a dream apartment, and by now he's pretty sure that he couldn't stand to live without Leighton ever again. "We'll have to pay her back, but—she really wanted to help out."

For a long while, neither of them says anything. Leighton's lips move, but she doesn't know what to say. It's a dream, she tells herself, this can't be real. Not only have they had the most wonderful days off, a romantic breakfast, but now this? This isn't Reid, this has the team written all over it. It's like Reid listened to all of them and executed every single thing.

"So—it's ours?" Leighton asks carefully, even more afraid the room will evaporate in front of her once she's spoken the words.

Reid grins, and nods. "It's ours," he says.

"Oh my God," Leighton breathes, feeling tears fill up her eyes. She doesn't know what else to say or do. She's happy. She walks over to Reid and throws her arms around his neck. "It's perfect," she says, hugging him tight.

It's more than an anniversary present, more than something that celebrates one day in the year that marks how long they've been together. This isn't just a present; this is a commitment, a way of saying that Reid's committed to her, to them, to their future together.

"Three bedrooms," Leighton whispers.

"To store things," Reid answers.

* * *

><p><strong>if you can, please let me know what you think!<strong>


	30. Coming Home

**author's notes:** aaand i'm back! exams are over and went really well, and the only thing i now have to worry about is finishing my thesis by May. i've semi-plotted this story up until chapter 37 for now (not including the epilogue) and i'm pretty excited about all the plot developments coming up! it's been such an incredible journey already, but so many things still have to happen before we hit the moment in the prologue (i got you curious now, didn't i?) SUPER THANKS to everyone supporting me through this, and SUPER SPECIAL thanks to **Inwenalas**.

**characters:** Reid/Leighton (OC), Emily, Hotch, Rossi, JJ, Strauss, Morgan, Garcia

* * *

><p><strong>SCARS REMIND US WHERE WE'VE BEEN;;<strong>

****chapter twenty-nine********  
><strong>**

* * *

><p><strong>(1)<strong>

**date:** February 21st, 2013

"I love what you've done with your hair."

Leighton looks at Emily, but she has her back turned to her. "Thanks," Leighton answers and frowns. She'd gotten a haircut two weeks ago, back to a more manageable shoulder-length mess rather than one reaching down her back, but none of her team members were usually in the habit of commenting on such things when they were out in the field.

She hangs her shirt up on a small hook inside one of the precinct lockers—only Emily and her had been assigned one because they needed to change into their dresses. Leighton takes off her pants, dangling it from the same hook in the locker, and slips into her deep purple dress.

"Are you okay?" Leighton asks, because something in Emily's behavior has seemed off all day. Granted, it's only her second case back, but she'd rather make sure than have something go wrong tonight. They're going undercover together at a local club, hoping to attract their UnSub's attention. He'd been escalating in the past few weeks and local PD was determined to catch the UnSub before he victimized another pair of girls.

Emily turns, zipping up her low-cut black dress at the back. "I uhm—" she says, and shakes her head. "Yeah."

"Emily—" Leighton starts. She doesn't think she's ever heard Emily hesitate like this before.

Emily chuckles and shakes her head again. Of course Leighton understands, and she imagines no one would have much trouble profiling her unease today. "I've been out for almost two years," she says. "I'm not gonna lie, I'm a little nervous."

"That's only normal." Leighton shrugs, pulling out the pins holding her hair together. "You know you don't have to do this, right?" she asks. "I'm sure JJ—"

"No, it's fine," Emily interrupts. "I just—I don't know."

Leighton takes a deep breath. This is something she does know a thing or two about, unfortunately. "You're not sure you trust yourself," she says. It's not entirely the same, her insecurities were born from a distrust in her on her team's part, and later extended to herself after being victimized. It's hard to find a place again when everyone – including the Director of the FBI – has little faith in your skills.

Emily on the other hand had died, Hotch and JJ had helped her fake her death. Had she really dealt with all that?

"And that makes you wonder if I trust you to have my back," Leighton adds.

Emily's eyes go wide. She'd really hoped to be less see-through in this respect. "Do you?" she asks.

Leighton smiles. "Yes, I do," she says. Emily has always been professional, and sometimes being aware of one's own fears and insecurities only provides more focus, at work or outside of it. And as someone who's been victimized herself, Leighton knows exactly what to look out for if something does go wrong.

"Are you guys ready?" Hotch calls from the next room, hesitant to come in before knowing both his agents are fully dressed.

"Yeah," Leighton says, and sees Hotch entering the small locker-room, followed closely by Rossi. "We're good to go," she says, putting on some earrings she borrowed from JJ.

"Remember, you want to be assertive," Hotch says. "Take the initiative."

"I still say this is a long-shot."

"Leighton's right," Emily says. "Is this guy really stupid enough to come back to the same bar?"

"We profiled him as power-assertive," Rossi answers. "He _needs_ to come back."

"Look for someone who can talk to women, but likes to pretend he can't," Hotch adds.

Emily and Leighton both nod. They know what to look for, Morgan and Reid had repeated it to them a few times now, and hearing Rossi and Hotch repeat it now makes them both realize how much the team's concerned for them.

"Good luck," Rossi says, watching Leighton and Emily disappear down the hallway. "You sure she's up for this?" he asks, and turns to Hotch.

Hotch doesn't need to ask him who he's talking about. He's heard all the arguments already, and he's grateful Rossi leaves it at a single question rather than discuss it entirely. They all know Emily's nervous about being back, they've all noticed how hard she's trying to fit in and regain everyone's trust. But all that takes time, and most importantly, Emily needs to trust herself again as well.

Hotch shakes his head. "You're not the only one worried about this."

"Strauss?"

Hotch nods. "Yes."

"Well then," Rossi says, "let's go prove her wrong."

* * *

><p><strong>(2)<strong>

**date:** March 7th, 2013

Reid's never underestimated his own penchant for rambling. He thinks he's never met anyone who hasn't brought it up to him, whether it was in the form of an inquisitive eyebrow or asking him about his IQ. But since their anniversary Leighton hasn't once stopped talking about all the possibilities for their apartment. Safe to say not even Morgan could have predicted this would happen.

"I'm just saying that it has to be your decision as well," Leighton says as they cross the lobby and make their way to the ground floor elevators.

"What do I know about interior decorating?" he asks. "My apartment's still exactly the same as the last tenant left it."

"But this is different," Leighton insists, pressing the number six button. "This is _our_ apartment. It'll be our _home_ for the foreseeable future. And you don't want any say in it?"

Reid grins. "Of course I do," he says. More than anything he wants to make it a home for Leighton and him, and any possible additions to their—did Leighton and him already constitute a family? The apartment had meant the world to Leighton, he just hopes she accepted it for what it was: a promise, not necessarily an active commitment. Not for the immediate future anyway. "Just not when it comes to color schemes."

"So you'd be just as happy to leave it as it is?"

He'd be happy to lose track of this conversation altogether, but Reid knows he'd never get away with telling Leighton that. "The walls are white now," he says. "Doesn't that go with just about anything?"

"So does black." Leighton shrugs. "That's not really a sound argument."

"Black makes rooms appear smaller," he answers, unaware that he was meant to make solid arguments.

"Okay, so black is off the table." Leighton follows Reid out the elevator and to the bullpen. "At least something we can agree on."

They both dump their bags on their desks—Leighton had given Emily's desk back to her and taken Ashley's former desk as her own. It seemed only right.

"Unless we want to go with a contrast wall," Leighton adds as an afterthought.

Reid looks at Leighton and frowns to himself. What on earth is a _contrast_ wall? That's it, he thinks, it's about time he learns a thing or two about interior decorating, or he'll never hear the end of it.

They're so wrapped up in their discussion that neither Leighton nor Reid had noticed JJ, Garcia and Rossi gathered at Emily's desk, and are all staring at Hotch's office. The blinds are closed.

"What's going on?" Leighton asks, joining the group.

"Hotch is in with Strauss," Emily says.

"Why?" Reid asks.

"He's trying to get Morgan's suspension lifted," Rossi answers.

Garcia takes in a deep breath. "Can Strauss do that?" she asks, reluctant to get her hopes up already. She wants her Morgan back more than anything, but losing him in the first place – despite his own admission of guilt – had seemed impossible to begin with.

"She knows the people that can." Rossi nods.

Inside, Strauss crosses her arms over her chest after hearing Hotch's argument for bringing Morgan back: his specialization in obsessional crime and former bomb squad experience makes him a key part of this team. Strauss knows that Hotch's team worked a bomber case several months ago where they could have used Morgan, but they'd managed fine without him. More than anything she thinks this is about Hotch's own state of mind, and his need to still earn his team's forgiveness.

"You know what this will mean for your team," Strauss says.

"Ma'am?" Hotch asks. What will this mean for his team? It will mean it's complete again, that Morgan will be back, that his team will be stronger. With Morgan back, maybe they can settle back in their old patterns.

"Your team's already under a great deal of scrutiny as it is," Strauss says. "The nature of Agent Reid and Tanner's relationship, Agent Prentiss' return—"

"None of those things have stopped my team from solving cases, not once," Hotch interrupts. He needs all the poise he has to stop himself from sounding disrespectful. Strauss understands this team, and understands his need to have this team together better than most, but just like most she has her own reservations about some of them.

Strauss sighs, and looks at Hotch for a moment. She wants to see this team succeed, but not at the cost of Hotch's reputation. Still, there's little she can say or do to dissuade Hotch at this point. "I'll see what I can do."

Hotch takes a deep breath. "Thank you."

When Strauss leaves Hotch's office, passing the rest of the team in the bullpen, most of them avoid looking at her. "Ma'am," JJ says to be polite, but Strauss doesn't say anything in return.

"No," Rossi says, waiting for Strauss to be out of earshot. "That wasn't awkward at all."

"How'd it go?" JJ asks.

Nothing in Hotch's expression changes when he joins the rest of his team. "We'll see."

* * *

><p><strong>(3)<strong>

**date: **March 15th, 2013

He's completely pumped by the time he arrives at the office. After being unable to sleep he'd gone for a run early this morning, had attempted to have a long breakfast afterwards but only ended up unnerving himself in the process.

Getting suspended didn't end up being the worst experience—he'd somehow managed to see Emily several times a week, helping her transition back to her life here; if possible he'd seen Garcia even more often, or maybe it just felt like more. He'd spent two weeks back home with his mom and his sisters, and they'd taken every opportunity to put him to work around the house.

His suspension put things in perspective for him—what he did to Doyle was wrong, it compromised everything he'd worked for and went against everything his father had always taught him. It wouldn't have been fair to let his team, or someone on his team take the fall for a mistake he made himself. His mom had told him how proud she was of him for admitting the truth and facing the consequences. And he likes to think his father would've been proud of him as well.

Still, after spending four months away from his team, away from his job, he'd been more than a little relieved when he got the call from Strauss that he'd been reinstated. The investigation into his actions in the Doyle case had come to an end, and the Senate committee had allowed him to keep his badge. He'd be under scrutiny for a while longer, as he'd expected, but at least he'd be back in the field.

Emily's the first one to catch sight of him when he exits the elevator. "Hey." She smiles broadly, and envelops him in a tight hug. "When did you get back?" she asks.

"I just got in," he says. Reid and JJ join them from the other side of the hallway, and both of them smile. He assumed everyone knew he'd be coming back today, but judging by Emily's reaction someone forgot to tell her.

"Wh—why didn't you tell us?" Emily shakes her head. "We could have put together a party or something."

"What, like yours?" JJ huffs. "Do I need to remind you of the hangover most of us had after that?"

Emily laughs; she knows she's probably taking this a little too personal, but Morgan got suspended for what he did to Doyle, and she's the one who brought Doyle into all their lives in the first place. Hotch had accused her of overcompensating, but she can't help herself: being back has been overwhelming to say the least, but in a good way. She feels safe having her family around again.

"So you're ready to jump back in?" Emily asks. She'd been grateful for the time she got to adjust to Leighton's presence on the team before having Morgan back. She'd only worked with Leighton on a handful of cases while the rest of the team had almost two years to get to know her. Emily knows that if Morgan had been back at the same time she was, she'd have clung to him as a lifeline, a way of keeping her head above water in a place where Leighton was no longer just her replacement. Leighton was a part of the team.

"It's good to be back." Morgan smiles, but doubts it comes across as very convincing. He knows he has to prove himself again to more than a few people around here. More than anything, he hopes he can mend Leighton's trust in him. "I'll see you guys in there," he adds and makes his way to the coffee machine, Reid in tow.

Emily and JJ pass them on their way to the bullpen. He notices Rossi and Hotch are still in their office; by the looks of the empty bullpen he's assuming Leighton's already in the conference room.

"How's the move going?" Morgan asks.

"Oh, it's fine," Reid answers, focused entirely on his coffee.

"Something wrong?" Morgan watches Reid closely.

"Nothing, really." Reid shakes his head. "Leighton and I got into a discussion about her shoes yesterday." It wasn't even really a discussion—he asked Leighton about the box labeled 'shoes', having a hard time believing the whole thing was filled with only shoes, but when it'd turned out it was, he'd been even more confused. After ten straight minutes of questions on his part, Leighton had broken out in laughter and hadn't stopped giggling for at least half an hour after that.

"Her shoes?"

Reid shuffles around where he stands and puts a hand in his pocket. "She has twelve pair." He still doesn't understand why anyone would need that many shoes. He's only got two pairs of sneakers.

"So?" Morgan asks. But Reid's face remains riddled with confusion. "Reid, it's not uncommon for women to have that many shoes," he says, him and Reid walking up the few steps leading to the conference room.

Reid frowns. "It's not?"

"It's like guys and cars," Morgan explains. "Women and shoes is one of the great mysteries in this world."

"Oh, not you too," Leighton says, catching Morgan's words the moment he enters the room. "I don't have _that_ many shoes."

"Is that how it's going to be now that I'm back?" Morgan asks.

Leighton grins. "I'm sorry," she says, and walks over to hug Morgan. "Welcome back."

Before Morgan can say anything else, Garcia rushes into the room, runs past Reid, and throws her arms around Morgan. "Please, never leave me again," she says, face pressed tight against his torso.

"Baby girl." Morgan laughs, but makes no attempt to move. "You saw me all the time."

"It's not the same," Garcia says, arms tightening around Morgan. "As much as I love relaxed laidback no-strings-attached Derek, it's crime fighter Derek that gets my blood pumping."

Rossi strolls into the conference room. "What's going on?" he asks.

"Oh, we might need a crowbar to detach Garcia from Morgan," Emily answers. "And Reid thinks Leighton has too many shoes."

_Same old same old_, Rossi thinks, and loses himself in thought. All three of his ex-wives had closets full of shoes, but a lot of that could've been connected to the reasonable fortune he made selling his books. "I've always found a woman's relationship to shoes utterly unquantifiable."

"What's unquantifiable?" Hotch asks, walking into the room behind Rossi, his attention half-turned to the file in his hands.

"The amount of shoes in a woman's closet," Rossi answers.

Hotch looks up and takes in the room. The girls have all pretty much huddled together on one side of the table, wisely staying out of the debate no doubt, while Reid, Morgan and Rossi are all still standing. He looks at his team, his family, feeling something resembling pride swell in his chest, even though he doesn't let on. They're all back. They're all together again.

He sits down at the round table. "Beth has eighteen," he murmurs, attempting to appease the discussion. It's been a long while since they've been this relaxed.

He only just catches Emily and JJ looking at each other, shaking their heads.

"Eighteen?" Reid's eyes go wide. He sits down at the table along with Rossi and Morgan, and not long after they somehow fall into a discussion of rare paraphilia.

* * *

><p><strong>if you can, please let me know what you think!<strong>


	31. It's Too Late To Say Goodbye

**author's notes: **so sorry it took me so long to update, but between being sick, working on my Master thesis and a narrowly averted family tragedy i've had little time and will to work on this story. it took me a while to get back into any sort of writing, but i have every intention of finishing this story! i tried a slightly different format this chapter because i felt it flowed better and fitted the tone i was going for. i hope you all like it! special thanks to my beta **Inwenalas**.

**characters:** Reid/Leighton (OC), Diana Reid, Duncan Lawson (OC)

* * *

><p><strong>SCARS REMIND US WHERE WE'VE BEEN;;<strong>

****chapter thirty********  
><strong>**

* * *

><p><strong>date: <strong>May 11th-14th, 2013

#

He doesn't recognize the number his cellphone lights up with.

"Reid," he says, because he assumes it's work; he wouldn't put it past Hotch to call them all in on a Saturday.

"Dr Spencer Reid?" a woman's voice sounds over the other end of the line. Not work then. "I'm calling about your father."

Reid frowns to himself. "My father?" he asks, heart beating faster in his chest. Maybe the woman is his father's secretary? But what business would his father have with him?

Moments later Reid disconnects the call and feels gravity pulling him down to the couch. He sits there for what seems an eternity.

#

Two large grocery bags balance in her arms as Leighton maneuvers through the front door. She usually takes Reid with her to avoid these problems but he'd seemed particularly attached to his new book. He's still on the couch when she makes her way through the door, kicking it shut behind her. "Spence," Leighton calls out, hoping to attract Reid's attention for some help. But he doesn't respond to the sound of his own name.

Leighton tries again: "Could you give me a hand with these?"

When she looks up, tightening her arms around the paper bags, Reid doesn't so much as move a muscle. Leighton sighs, takes a right into the kitchen and dumps the groceries on the counter. She makes her way into the living room, slightly annoyed by Reid's lack of response.

But there's something that stops her short in her tracks.

Something's not right.

Reid's book lays splayed open on the carpet, his cellphone resting in the palm of his hand. It's so quiet they could hear a pin drop.

"What's wrong?" Leighton asks, moving a careful step closer.

Reid looks at the cellphone in his hand. "My dad died," he says, voice between a cry and a whisper.

A shiver races up Leighton's spine. "What?" the word's out before she manages to contain it.

"I just got a call from—" Reid says, but doesn't look up to meet her eye. "I was listed as an emergency contact. He was in a car accident." He frowns and swallows hard. Why would his father do that? There's a strange sensation sitting on his chest when he thinks about it, trying to coax out other emotions against his will.

And then something in his brain shuts down; there are other things to think about. He gets up on autopilot. "I have to get over there," Reid says and bounds for the door.

Leighton's between him and the front door before he's registered the movement. "Whoa, Spence," she says, a hand on his chest. "You have to slow down."

"No, I have to talk to my mom," he says, eyes finding Leighton's, begging her not to make him do this – don't make him slow down, don't force him to feel it – as far as he's concerned he's never had a father, none that he can clearly remember anyway. "I have to tell her in person."

"Of course." Leighton nods, in control, composed. It won't help Reid if she loses it now. "But we have to check flights first," she says. "We have to pack."

"We?" Reid's eyes go wide.

Leighton shakes her head. "I'm—I'm not letting you do this alone," she says. He can't _do_ this on his own, Leighton thinks, not with the way he feels about his father, not with how attached he is to his mother. If she has to be his voice of reason for a while then so be it. She'll be there for him every step of the way.

"You need someone with you, Spence," Leighton adds, moving a hand to his cheek. "Are you okay?" she asks, even though she shouldn't, even though it might not get her an answer. But she has to gauge his state of mind, to make sure she's everything she needs to be when he needs her to.

Reid shakes his head, blinks. He doesn't know what he's feeling. "I have to call Hotch," he says, bites his lips nervously, and pushes past Leighton, not feeling how her hand falls away from his cheek, brushes his shoulder—

Leighton stares after him, hoping she's strong enough to see this through with him.

#

He's heard the expression 'having a small voice' a few times, but he's never had to apply it to himself. He doesn't just sound small right now. He feels small. It seems ridiculous—he's sat in the same room as convicted felons, stared serial killers in the eye and questioned them without feeling the need to blink. But it's his mother that can make him feel like a kid again.

Leighton's behind him, but keeps a respectful distance. He clears his throat before speaking. "Hi, mom," he says, voice still shaking.

His mother looks up from her book. He can tell she registers his distress instantly.

"Spencer," she says. "What's wrong? What happened?"

Something rips through him: it's the painful realization that this news will break his mother's heart unlike his, it'll hurt her right away whereas he might never hurt in the same way. He hopes he'll never feel it, even though the pain's already slipping through the cracks his upbringing has left him susceptible to.

He looks back at Leighton, maybe to make sure she's still there, maybe to find the courage the sight of his mother has just deprived him of. She gives him an encouraging nod, but still keeps her distance; she knows this is something he has to do alone.

"Mom—" He sits down in an armchair opposite her. "I got a call from the hospital yesterday," he says, cupping his mother's hands in his own. "Dad he—" He casts down his eyes. "—he died."

Silence.

He looks up at his mother, but she's staring down to where their hands are joined. She doesn't utter a single word.

"Mom," Reid says, looking for a response. "Mom, did you—Did you understand what I said?"

"How?" his mother asks, voice barely audible.

"A car accident," he answers, because he has to—he can't keep this from his mother even if it'll break her heart. "There was a drunk driver and—dad didn't make it."

His mother closes her eyes, hangs her head. "No—" she cries.

It rip-roars through him again: guilt because he can't feel the same way, because his father meant so little to him. Or so he likes to think.

"No-o." His mother shakes her head.

"Mom," he urges, and places a hand on her shoulder.

"No!" she shouts, batting his arm out of the way, and starts screaming.

"Mom, please," he begs, trying to get his arms around her. He feels tears filling up his eyes, for his mother, for her pain, not his own. He doesn't feel it, he won't feel it, not if he can help it. "It's okay, mom, please," he says, feeling like he's eighteen years old all over again, wanting to be enough for her, but failing.

"Dr Reid, please let us take care of her," one of the nurses says, and he releases his mother, retreats back towards Leighton. He turns and hugs her; he closes his eyes and holds Leighton tight, refusing to watch his mother getting sedated. He's grateful Leighton's here. He needs her.

#

They get a call from a Duncan Lawson not long after they leave his mother—Reid recognizes the name immediately. The woman who'd called him yesterday told him he was the other person on his father's emergency call list, and he'd been in to identify his father's body. For some reason he'd been relieved to hear that.

Duncan Lawson was one of his father's colleagues at the law firm he worked; apparently he was the closest thing his father had to a best friend.

"Dr Reid," Mr Lawson says, shaking his hand firmly. He wonders why the man doesn't just call him 'Spencer' but thinking about the why brings him back to thinking about his father. "Your father told me a great deal about you," Lawson adds. "I'm sorry we have to meet under these circumstances."

"Leighton," Leighton introduces herself, and shakes Mr Lawson's hand as well.

"I'm not really sure why I'm here," Reid says, remains standing in front of the man's desk.

"For your father's will, Dr Reid," Mr Lawson answers. "You and your mother are the sole beneficiaries."

The ground shakes beneath him—he's never wanted anything from his father, not when he was younger and not now, except maybe an apology for something he could never forgive him for. But now suddenly he's expected to take this money, his father's money? Why?

"What?" he manages to ask.

"The will stipulates that half his capital goes to your mother," Mr Lawson clarifies. "The other half and the worth of his apartment goes to you."

He feels Leighton take his hand, guiding him back, urging him to sit down. He doesn't want to deal with this, but he knows Leighton expects him to. Society expects him to, because he's William Reid's son and his mother isn't capable.

"My only question is whether or not you'd be willing to take on the sale of the property and its contents, or—"

Reid feels Lawson's eyes on him, but he's spaced out of the conversation. "We'll do that," he hears Leighton answer for him, even though she doesn't know what he really wants. He doesn't know what he really wants right now. Everything's happening so fast.

"I didn't—I didn't even know him," Reid says, to no one in particular, but mostly only for Leighton to hear. She reaches over and takes hold of his hand again, but refrains from saying anything.

"You're the only family he had, Dr Reid," Lawson says. "He included a letter for you."

He raises his eyes to where Lawson's holding out the letter for him. Another letter, just like last time, just like Gideon, an attempt to explain the unexplainable, words that lose their meaning if he reads them enough times, especially once he's memorized them. He takes the letter tentatively, but tells himself to leave it closed until he's decided what to do with it.

"Spence," Leighton's voice, her hand rubbing circles over his back.

"I think—I'm gonna go see my mom again," he says, but doesn't look up.

Leighton nods. "I'll go back to the hotel."

#

She doesn't know exactly when she falls asleep. She knows it's late, but Reid keeps tossing and turning, and the noises outside keep her awake for a long time. But somehow she manages some sleep, drifting in and out of dreams where she can't find Reid or her family, or she's pinned down on a hardwood floor, unable to move.

She wakes up because she's cold. The covers of the bed are tousled behind her, Reid's gone, sitting up at the end of the bed.

"Spence?" Leighton asks, and scoots closer to him. She puts a hand on his shoulder, her chin on the other. She doesn't want to ask him how he's feeling, because everything in his behavior these past two days has already told her how much he's been struggling. But she wants to be there for him, she wants to know what to say or do in order to make him feel better.

"I don't understand why I'm feeling like this," Reid says, but what he means to say is that he has no idea what he's feeling in the first place. His father's gone, but he was never there for him to begin with. Should he feel sorrow? Should he feel loss? Should he feel guilty for not approaching him and talk things through?

"He was your father," Leighton says.

"No," he says. "He was just the man who left me."

Leighton sits back to look at him. He can't mean that, Leighton thinks, no matter what happened in the past Reid can't think of his father like that. "No, Spence." Leighton shakes her head. "He was your _dad_," she stresses.

Reid looks at her sideways, but averts his eyes immediately. Leighton's eyes are big with love and concern and it cuts through him again, the guilt, underlining the unbalance between the love he feels for her and the love he chooses to show her. There's so much about this that she'll never understand. "I don't expect you to understand," he says, even though he knows better.

Leighton casts down her eyes. Of course, that's what it always boils down to. Her apparent inability to relate to his life, because she has the perfect family, a childhood and high school experience that wasn't plagued by an absent parent or bullies.

It's not the first time Reid's told her that she doesn't understand, always spoken from a place of anger or frustration. Maybe she'll never completely empathize, but she's tired of the accusation. She's a profiler, a damn good one at that, but if she can't understand her own boyfriend what business does she have being one? Even if she doesn't share the same experiences she can see what this is doing to Reid. He's been angry with his father for twenty years, he's never even considered forgiving him. And now it's too late.

"Spence—" she starts again, but Reid shoots up from the bed.

"Don't!" he almost shouts. "Don't _Spence_ me, it's—you don't know." He shakes his head. "You don't know," he adds, then disappears into the bathroom.

When he comes back out he's fully dressed. He grabs his wallet off the dresser, but leaves his cellphone, and makes his way to the hotel room door.

"Where are you going?" Leighton asks, panic striking her. What just happened? She hadn't even uttered her own frustrations because she was afraid of how Reid might react, but she had to at least try. He has to start trusting her with his grief.

"I need some air," Reid calls back.

The door slams shut behind him.

* * *

><p><strong>if you can, please let me know what you think!<strong>


	32. This Letter's Written Itself Inside Out

**author's notes: **i apologize for the wait, you guys, but i had my thesis to write and that took up a lot of my creative writing time. rest assured i am back now and very determined to finish this story - i still have quite a few things in store for Leighton and Reid! thanks so much to everyone that's (still) reading and leaving me reviews :) i hope you all like the new chapter! my undying love once again goes out to my beta **Inwenalas**.

**characters:** Reid/Leighton (OC), Morgan, Garcia, Diana Reid

**warning:** scenes NOT chronological

* * *

><p><strong>SCARS REMIND US WHERE WE'VE BEEN;;<strong>

****chapter thirty-one********  
><strong>**

* * *

><p><strong>date: <strong>May 15th-19th, 2013

#

_Dearest Spencer,_

_If you're reading this, it means I'm gone and I never got to tell you this in person. I know it's not fair to reach out to you in a letter again or to even try to explain my actions, but I lost the ability to talk to you a long time ago._

_Your mother was always much better at this than I was, understood you on a level that was always beyond me. _

#

When Morgan sees Leighton and Reid arrive in the lobby together there's a tension between them that's tangible.

"Morning," he says.

Leighton smiles at him but Reid stays silent and doesn't even stop to grab himself a coffee like Leighton does. He's seen this between them before, when Leighton wasn't sleeping or not talking to Reid about her problems. Now he knows it's the other way around.

"Hey, kid," he calls after Reid. Hotch and Leighton had advised them earlier this week to give him some space, and the last thing Reid needs is knowing the rest of the team's worrying about him, but he knows what it's like to lose a parent. At the very least he hopes Reid realizes he can talk to him.

Reid halts in his tracks and looks at him over his shoulder.

"You okay?"

Reid shrugs. "Fine," he says, and continues on to his desk.

He gets it, this is Reid's way of dealing with things, shutting everyone and everything out and dealing with this pain by himself. But there comes point where that just won't be enough anymore. And haven't they been through this enough times already?

He looks back at Leighton, who's even quieter than usual, pouring a cup of coffee for her and Reid. It occurs to him that maybe Leighton needs some space too, after all, it can't have been easy to deal with Reid and his mother on her own for the past week. But that only makes him more worried about her.

"He's not handling this very well, is he?" he asks.

"I tried to talk to him, but—" Leighton shakes her head and runs a hand through her hair. It isn't hard to see that she's tired.

"Are you two fighting?" Morgan asks, and fails to hide the surprise in his voice. He knows Reid and Leighton have their arguments, but he can't imagine them having a full-blown fight.

Leighton just shakes her head again, avoiding a straight answer. "Maybe he's right, you know." She shrugs. "I don't know what it's like to lose a parent, or grow up without one."

"You want me to talk to him?"

She turns her head, the look in her eyes half-guilty over the implication and half-expecting a positive answer. "Could you?"

He puts a hand on her shoulder. He nods without having to say it, why wouldn't he do this for her?

#

"He was kind of a cinephile, wasn't he?" Leighton says once she lays eyes on William Reid's movie stubs collection; there are three shoe boxes filled with them.

Reid stands further in the room, hands in his pockets, trying his best to look around disinterested. "I didn't really know him well enough to answer that," he says. It turns out his father lived in a modest one-story house, two bedrooms, one of which served as his office, small kitchen and an equally small living room.

Looking around it's painful to realize this could well be his own house if he still lived on his own. He doesn't want to recognize himself in his father's habits, no more than he already does—it's worse enough that he—

He turns to face Leighton. "Why did you agree to do this?" he asks, because he doesn't need this, he doesn't need to be faced with everything his father was, everything he could potentially become.

"Spence," Leighton says, and she sounds more demeaning than she means to. "He left all this to you."

"If it's mine then I should get to decide what to do with it," Reid answers. He's well aware he sounds like a child, but he can't help it. This house, this _future_ is everything he fears can happen—Leighton already talks about having kids so often and yes, part of him's been encouraging that, but what if—what if he turns out just like his father?

"He _wanted_ you to have it," Leighton stresses. "This could be your chance to get to know him better."

He knows this man already. The workaholic, the man that abandoned his family. And for what? Was it just because of the terrible secret his mother had forced on them? Or was it in his nature to leave, to abandon his only child, his own _son_? Is it in _his_ nature?

"He's dead," Reid says.

Leighton sighs, and casts down her eyes.

"I know," she says softly. She walks over to him and hugs her arms around him from behind; Reid's hands are still in his pockets and he makes no move to reciprocate.

They can't ever talk about this like normal people, their scars have somehow left them incapable of facing these issues head on so instead they talk around it. Instead of admitting that he's hurting Reid lashes out, shuts down, retreats. If Leighton were in his shoes she'd probably do the same. She _has_ done the same.

Leighton pulls Reid close and holds him tight, Reid finally leaning back into the embrace. "But we both know someone being gone doesn't guarantee those feelings go away too."

Reid reaches up for one of Leighton's hands. "I know," he says.

Something brushes past their legs; Leighton lets go of Reid and stares down at the ginger cat that's settled itself at her feet. "I guess we'll be taking him home," Leighton says.

"We can't take the cat," Reid says.

"Why not?" Leighton looks up at Reid. "We took care of Sergio."

"That was different."

"No, Spence, it wasn't." Leighton shakes her head. He means that Sergio's stay was temporary, but he didn't know that when he took Sergio in; Reid thought Emily was dead. Leighton picks the cat up from the ground. "We're taking him. No discussion."

Reid sighs. "What's his name?"

Leighton checks the collar around its neck. "Jones," she reads. "Isn't that the cat from—"

"_Alien_." Reid nods.

"See? You've got that strange fascination for killer aliens in common."

After that Reid mostly stays silent. They go through all the rooms, checking to see if there's anything worth keeping. One of his father's colleagues drops by for the files in his office and they'd already sold the hybrid this morning. When his eyes falls on the impressive collection of Isaac Asimov books Reid feels tears coming to his eyes—too many similarities, too much like him, he thinks.

He doesn't ask Leighton to leave them, nor does he explain why he offers to go into town for a coffee run on his own. He doesn't complain when she gives the books a place in the apartment once they're home again, but he doesn't touch them. They're a constant reminder of just how much like his father he is.

#

"Tall boy genius."

Reid swivels his chair around and watches Garcia make her way to him from across the bullpen. He thought he was the last one still in the office; Leighton had already gone home to catch up on some sleep, and even Hotch had finished his paperwork for the day. He doesn't want to go home, he doesn't want to slow down and confront his pain. So he drowns himself in work.

"Come on," Garcia says. "I'm taking you out for a nightcap."

Reid shakes his head and turns his chair to face his desk again. "Garcia, I'm not really—"

But she's already shaking her head before he finishes. "Nuh-uh," she says, and snatches his vest from the back of his chair. "I'm not taking no for an answer."

Twenty minutes later they settle down at a table in a local bar—Garcia with a glass of red wine and he with some tea.

"I know what this is about," Reid says. It's what Morgan tried this morning, what Leighton tried several times in Vegas but has given up on for the time being. It's about what Emily and JJ will try to discuss with him in the days or weeks to come. It's all the same conversation.

"You do?" Garcia asks, sipping from her wine. "Enlighten me, oh wise one."

"Morgan tried it this morning," Reid says. "I know he grew up without a father too, but it's not the same. His father died a hero, mine—" He shrugs. "My dad just left me."

Garcia reaches for his hand across the table. "That doesn't mean he didn't love you."

Reid takes a breath and frowns. "How do I know that?" he asks. "Because he left my mom and me money? Because he looked me up online? What—" He sighs, and stares down into his cup of tea. "I don't know if it really matters anymore."

"Of course it does, Reid," Garcia says, giving his hand a squeeze. "He was your father."

He sniggers.

"What?" Garcia asks.

"That's what Leighton said," he says, but frowns to himself again. The word, father, it means something to Leighton and Garcia because they have loving fathers that are there for them, that love them, that support them. But what did he have? "But I don't know what that means. I never knew him."

"You're right." Garcia sighs, chin resting in the palm of her hand. "It sucks."

"It's just—" He stirs uncomfortably in his chair. "Despite all of that, I—I can't figure out why I'm feeling this way."

He knows he's lost someone important to him, someone he should mourn, someone he should miss—maybe his pain's psychosomatic. Maybe he's afraid he really will turn out his father's son.

"Maybe it's time you read that letter," Garcia says.

#

"It was a very beautiful service," his mother says. "Very beautiful."

He hadn't really wanted to go, but he didn't want to disappoint his mother, or Leighton for that matter. It was a modest service, some of his father's colleagues had shown up to pay their respects, but there weren't a great many of them. Duncan Lawson, his father's closest friend, said some words, about what a kind man William Reid was, what a good and loyal friend.

Leighton had reached for his hand but he'd pulled back his to support his mother instead.

"You're heading back to DC?" his mother asks, shaking him from his thoughts, while she settles back into her room at the sanitarium.

"Tomorrow," Reid says, and starts biting his nails again.

His mom reaches over and takes hold of his hand. "Your father loved you, you know," she says. "He just couldn't—"

If it were anyone else saying it he'd follow that up with another _you don't understand_, but he feels like his mother's the only one who can rightfully talk about his father like this. "I know," he says instead, only to put his mother's mind at ease, because he doesn't know. He'll never really know.

"Everything okay between you and Leighton?"

Reid looks up, wondering what in his behavior warranted that question. Maybe she noticed him being quiet during the service, refusing Leighton's hand, while he really hadn't meant to.

"Yeah," he answers. "She's just been—" _patient_ with him, he thinks, and that's not even close to being a bad thing.

"A little overprotective?" his mother asks. He looks up at his mother; sometimes he thinks she really does read his mind. "Mothers and girlfriends are profilers too, you know, despite our jobs."

He smiles, self-conscious suddenly—he sits up straighter and clears his throat.

"You're not embarrassed talking to your mother about this, are you?" his mom teases.

"I am, actually," he says, but feels his mouth sliding into a smile again. "Very much so."

#

They're just excuses, all of them, every word in every line. They're all excuses for why his father couldn't be there—because he didn't _understand_, because he couldn't _talk_ to him—he wonders if his father knew how much he was underestimating his ability to understand. Reid knows that things pass him by, social conventions lost on him or things he can't connect to, but he always understood his parents. Every child does.

He's reading through the letter for the tenth time when Leighton comes home. She stops, catching eye of him on the couch and takes a deep breath.

"What's it say?" she asks, settling down on the couch a few inches away from him.

Reid shrugs. "The same things the others said."

_Others?_ Leighton thinks, but of course, he's not just talking about his father's first letter. He's talking about Gideon's too.

"How do you—" Reid starts and swallows hard. "How do you know someone loved you?" he asks. "I mean, don't they have to be around for that?"

How does he know Leighton loves him? He thinks it's because she's there, it's something he can feel in direct relation to her, the way she looks at him, the way she smiles, the way she touches him. He knows that by social convention a parent's love should be taken for granted, only in his line of work—or just life in general—he knows that's not true.

How can he love someone who was never there?

He looks at Leighton and he prays she knows, that she realizes he loves her even though he doesn't always find a way to express it, especially now.

Leighton looks at him sideways first before dropping her gaze to her hands, folded together in her lap. "I'm not sure anyone has an answer to that," she answers. "I guess it's just something you—believe or not." She shrugs and sinks down into the couch, resting her head against the back.

_Of course_, he thinks, but he doesn't know what to believe. He's never felt about his father the way he feels about his mother. His mother was always there, even though there were plenty of times he had to take care of her instead of the other way around. But he was willing to do that, sacrifice his youth to take care of her, because she was his everything. She was his world. She taught him how to read before he hit pre-school, she read poetry to him before bed. What had his father ever done for him?

"You would've liked him," he says, even though he's not sure where that sentiment comes from. Maybe he's just hoping it puts Leighton's mind at ease.

Leighton smiles softly. "I'm sure I would have."

She wants to tell him she loves him, but whatever part of her that's selfish hopes he already knows. She scoots closer and plants a kiss on his temple. "Come to bed," she says, hand squeezing his arm. She wants to have him close.

Reid nods. "Okay."

#

"Where did you go?" Leighton asks when she finds Reid downstairs in the restaurant, cupping a mug of steaming hot coffee between both hands.

Reid looks up. "When?"

"When you stormed out last night."

"I didn't storm out, I—" his words come too fast, too defensive, and by the time Leighton has settled at the table she can't hide the hint of accusation in her eyes. What he did wasn't fair, not after everything they've been through, not after the bond they've formed. "I just needed to clear my head."

Leighton nods, but remains silent.

"Leigh, I'm sorry about what I said, but—" but she doesn't understand, not really, how can she even as a profiler? She can read his body language, play into his moods to make him feel better, to offer him comfort when he needs it, but she'll never _know_. She'll never truly know what it's like to be abandoned, by a father, by a mentor, by Emily not too long ago.

And now his father's gone, the root of all his abandonment issues is gone. Dead.

"It's okay," Leighton says softly. "No need to apologize."

Even though it sounds sincere he knows the truth, deep down he knows she doesn't really mean it. It's not okay to continually push her away, to run or hide or get angry whenever it gets too hard for him to deal. They've done that dance a few times before and despite their love for each other it's the one thing he can still see coming between them. He has to learn to trust her with his pain.

#

_I love you, son._

_Love,_

_Dad._

* * *

><p><strong>if you can, please let me know what you think!<strong>


	33. The Past Is Just Around The Corner

**author's notes: **i am officially a Master English graduate and so ready to kick more fan fiction ass! this chapter's a little more case-focused-ish, but it has some character moments. thanks so much for all your reviews on last chapter, and i hope you all enjoy the new one. super-special thanks to my beta **Inwenalas**.

**characters:** Reid/Leighton (OC), Hotch, Dan Torre (OC), Morgan, JJ, Prentiss, Rossi

**additional notes:** the character Dan Torre features in the season 4 episode _Minimal Loss_, he's portrayed by Connor Trinneer.

* * *

><p><strong>SCARS REMIND US WHERE WE'VE BEEN;;<strong>

****chapter thirty-two********  
><strong>**

* * *

><p><strong>date: <strong>June 3rd, 2013

#

"We should invite Ben and Natalie for dinner sometime," Leighton says, watching as Reid presses the elevator button for the fifth floor. "They haven't seen the apartment yet. And it'd give Natalie a chance to get away from the kids." She looks at Reid for an answer, but all she gets from Reid is something she's already gotten used to: silence.

"Unless you think it's a bad idea," she adds, hoping to coax some kind of reaction out of him.

She's been trying so hard; the entire team's been trying hard to be there for Reid. They all know that this loss has really marked Reid since childhood already and finding a place for it in his life will take longer than usual. But the team only has to deal with this at work. Leighton has to deal with this silence at home as well.

Reid shrugs. "No, it's fine."

They talk, but about trivial things, never about his feelings, never about hers, not about his father anyway. Their nights are spend in front of the television or tugged in bed with a good book. But they haven't really talked in two weeks now.

"Spence—" Leighton says, but before she gets the chance to go in for a conversation they've been having for a while now, both their pagers go off.

The elevator doors open, Hotch and Rossi already waiting for them in the lobby. Whatever's going on, it seems to be big.

"What happened?" Leighton asks.

"Hostage situation."

"At an elementary school?" Morgan asks as he joins the rest of the team, JJ and Prentiss in tow.

Hotch nods briefly. "Garcia will brief us on the way."

They split up in two cars: Hotch, Rossi, JJ and Reid in the first, Leighton joining Morgan and Emily in the other. Hotch gets Garcia on the phone immediately, dialing the other car into a conference call. "Garcia, what can you tell us?" he asks. He feels naked without a case file to reference, but at least he's focusing on driving.

"Around 9:30 this morning a man entered a third grade class at Lafayette Elementary School and took the entire class hostage," Garcia says. "Once faculty became aware of the situation they contacted the police, who in turn called in the Hostage Rescue Team."

"What's being done to secure the other students?" Emily asks.

"They're being evacuated as quietly as possible through the back entrance of the cafeteria," Garcia answers, tapping away at her keyboard. "It's progressing slowly because they don't want to alarm the UnSub."

"What do we know about him?" Reid asks.

"His name is Marc Saunders. He's an ex-cop. Divorced."

"How do we know this?" Hotch asks.

"He signed in at the front desk," JJ answers before Garcia does. She'd gotten a fax from HRT headquarters with the preliminary details but hadn't gotten the chance to show it to the team yet.

"He _signed_ in?" Prentiss asks.

"Why would he do that?" Leighton asks.

"He said he came to collect his son's things," JJ says.

"What do we know about the son?" Rossi asks.

For a few moments the only sounds that reach the cars is Garcia's fingers racing over the keyboard. "Dylan Saunders, ten years old. He—" Garcia's breath catches and she chokes back a sob. "Oh God, he died of the side-effects of chemo last week. He had leukemia."

Both cars go silent for a moment, a collective sigh spreading over the phone line.

It's Hotch who speaks first: "Thanks, Garcia," he says. "We'll keep in touch."

They arrive at the elementary school no twenty minutes later, the streets cordoned off with police barricades to keep passers-by outside, squad cars parked in front of the school, snipers on the rooftops. "So much for not alarming the UnSub," Rossi deadpans and gets out of the car.

The Hostage Rescue Team is set up all around the school, the mobile headquarters parked around back where they can still see children pour out the back entrance escorted by teachers and SWAT units. An HRT member climbs out of the bus to greet them: he's dressed in khaki fatigues, his hair short-clipped and blond, a serious look imprinted across his features.

"Dan," Hotch shakes his hand, then Rossi does. "You remember my team."

Dan nods and looks at them one by one. He only met Reid and Prentiss after what happened at the ranch in Colorado, but he recognizes them all the same. "Morgan, Prentiss, Dr Reid, JJ, and—_Leighton_?"

"Dan," the name slips from Leighton's lips before she manages to compose herself. She always knew that it was possible for her to run into Dan during any given hostage situation the BAU got called in for, but she's still taken by surprise. It's not every day that you run into ex-boyfriends on the job.

Rossi looks at her curiously. "You two know each other?"

Dan finds his composure before Leighton does. "Austin, Texas, five years ago," he answers. Leighton smiles to herself; Dan conveniently leaves out the part where he asked her out afterwards. Or the part where they dated for three months. He looks at her and Leighton can feel her cheeks getting warmer. "We saved a lot of lives that day," Dan adds, not releasing her eyes.

She's suddenly reminded of that first date, a small Italian place not too far from where she lived, the lively conversation, the chaste goodnight kiss on her cheek. Things with Dan were always easy; he understood her young career at the BAU took up much of her time and she knew that his job with HRT was equally demanding. They saw each other when their jobs allowed and it never frustrated either of them when they couldn't make a date.

In Dan's eyes she can see the same, the memories playing through his mind, some nights spent curled up on the couch together, others only spent between the sheets.

"Let's try to do the same today," Rossi says, shaking Leighton back to her senses.

She'd be surprised if any of the team still wonder exactly how they know each other; it must be pretty obvious by now. She throws a glance at Reid, but if he was paying attention to the conversation at all it's now been diverted to a schematic of the school.

Hotch starts handing out orders. "Morgan, I'd like you to take lead," he says.

"Me?" Morgan asks. "Hotch, there's kids in there, don't you think Leighton or Emily—"

Hotch looks at Morgan strongly. "He's an ex-cop who's just lost his son."

Morgan considers this for a moment. "All right."

"Reid, I want you to stay in touch with Garcia," Hotch says, then turns around to face JJ.

"The press," JJ interrupts before Hotch needs to say it. "I got it."

He turns to Leighton and Emily last. "There are a lot of concerned parents out there right now. We need to assure them that the situation is under control."

"They're being rerouted to the community center across the street," Dan says. "Press should be there too."

Leighton and Emily both nod. "We'll keep in touch," Emily says.

#

The day progresses slowly. Leighton and Emily spent the first few hours talking to the parents of the children taken hostage, Hotch and Rossi question Marc Saunders' ex-wife about his mental state after their son died, while Morgan helps HRT negotiate the release of the third-graders.

Leighton and Emily are making their way back to the HRT bus to help the others with the profile. "So how do you know Dan?" Emily asks, casting Leighton a sideway glance. She's probably not the only one on the team who noticed the way Dan and Leighton had looked at each other this morning; in fact, even Leighton—who's never been in the business of wearing her emotions so openly—seems to have had a hard time hiding her feelings.

"From the Garrison standoff," Leighton answers, but doesn't seem to pick up on the implication.

"No," Emily says and stops in her tracks. Leighton looks at her. "I mean _how_ do you know him?" She arches an eyebrow for effect and soon sees realization dawn in Leighton's eyes.

Leighton chuckles; of course Emily would want to know. If Garcia had been there with them she'd have already put her through the wringer. "We dated for about three months," she answers, because at this point she sees no reason to lie, least of all to Emily.

Emily mulls this over; Dan and Leighton met five years ago—was this before her injury? "Was it serious?" she asks.

Leighton frowns to herself and bites her lip. "I guess," she shrugs, but her frown doesn't disappear.

"I'm sorry," Emily says, realizing the answer to her question: after her injury Leighton never allowed herself to find out just how serious they could become. She was a changed person. Emily understands that all too well. "I didn't mean to pry."

"It's okay." Leighton shakes her head. "I haven't seen him in five years, but—"

"There's still some history," Emily fills in.

Leighton sighs. "Not history," she says, even though her and Dan clearly have past history that hasn't been entirely resolved yet. "Room for apology, maybe," Leighton corrects.

"Does Reid know?" Emily asks, but before Leighton even gets the chance to react Reid's suddenly joined them out of nowhere.

"Do I know what?" he asks without looking up from the papers he's holding. Leighton feels her heart jump in her chest—things like this are only meant to happen on TV. But why is she worrying? She's completely committed to Reid, her relationship with Dan was five years ago and whatever history there still is between them won't reawaken any old flames.

She looks at Reid, right after Emily mouths 'sorry' to her and leaves her and Reid alone.

Reid's eyes find hers and there's something in him that hesitates. "Is this about you and Dan?" he asks, even though his every instinct is telling him not to. Does he really want to know? The first time they talked about their past relationships he always thought it was much harder for him—he didn't really have any 'relationships' to speak of. He always figured Leighton had to know she could trust him never to have feelings for anyone else.

But Leighton—he trusts her, he knows he does without a doubt, but Dan's presence was clearly effecting her and he felt—well, he _feels_ jealous. It's a very unpleasant and unwelcome feeling, but it's there alongside this other feeling, this _pain_ still living inside him, and it's throwing off his focus.

"Emily was just asking me about him," Leighton answers and she's biting her lip nervously and it only makes him stare.

He knows that part of him used to believe that Leighton would leave him if she wanted something serious and more meaningful, like a decent father for her kids. But then his own attachment to her grew and she made it clear she wanted those things with _him_ and no one else. And part of him—albeit a very frightened and insecure part—wants those things with her as well.

His father's death, however, bringing in its wake a string of painful memories and new insecurities, had only made his fears grow.

But today, this jealousy—it's made him realize how much he couldn't stand to lose Leighton. He loves Leighton.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," Leighton says once his silence starts dragging too long.

He blinks; he didn't mean to accuse her of anything. "I have to get these papers to JJ," he says.

Leighton nods. "We'll talk about it later," she says, and they both continue in opposite directions.

By the time Reid makes it to the community center his frown is close to giving him a headache. "Everything okay?" JJ asks, picking up on his mood.

"Yeah, fine," he answers, but immediately meets with JJ's questioning stare.

Her eyes narrow on his face. "Is this because of Dan?" she asks.

He briefly wonders if everyone on the team had noticed how Leighton had reacted to Dan. Reid hadn't been able to look at her, taken by surprise by the sting of jealousy that ran through him and the same sickening feeling he'd been getting every time one of his 'I'm fine' answers was accompanied by a disappointed sigh on Leighton's part. He's pushing away the one person he should be talking to and for what?

But he knows that his previous attempts at trivializing his father's death as one of many that had already scarred him have been less than successful. Somehow he always got reminded of his father's one-story house, a cautionary tale if ever he saw one.

"It's a lot of things," he admits, more than he's admitted to anyone for a while now. "And yeah," he adds. "I mean, he's nothing like me."

In fact, Dan Torre seemed like his complete opposite—a muscular easy-going guy, a good conversationalist, strong, confident and clearly not afraid to show his affection for Leighton. Maybe him and Leighton _should_ talk about this later.

"You ever consider that's why they broke up?" comes JJ's easy reply.

He frowns. "No," he says. Why hadn't he thought of that? He's been so focused on their differences that he never considered those differences to be the problem in the first place.

JJ pats his shoulder. "I'll leave you to ponder that."

#

"Hey."

Leighton turns around to establish the source of the voice and to her surprise it's Dan's. They're alone in the bus, the rest of the team either wrapping things up outside or helping JJ talk to the press. She knows Morgan's accompanying the UnSub to the police precinct for booking.

"Hey," she says, her voice smaller than she'd hoped. She clears her throat. "Great work today."

Dan half-shrugs. "It was Morgan's profile that did it," he says, and Leighton gets the distinct feelings he's talking around whatever he means to say. Morgan did deliver exceptional work today, and Hotch will undoubtedly let Strauss and the Director know that their trust in him had not been misplaced, but that's not what Dan really wants to talk about. "We're just here for tactical support."

Leighton smiles. "Don't sell yourself short," she says and when her eyes settle in Dan's, a smile pulling at his lips as well, she's suddenly reminded exactly what made her fall for him in the first place: his ease with himself, his self-confidence, his never-wavering modesty. But those were qualities she appreciated before.

"So, you and Dr Reid, hu?" Dan says; she's not sure if he picks up on the same thing she does or if it's the question he really came here to ask. But yes, her and Reid, what about _her and Reid_? He can't be jealous, can he? Whatever they had was over five years ago, somewhere between San Francisco and him visiting her at the hospital.

Leighton nods. "Me and Reid," she confirms.

"He doesn't seem like your type."

"As opposed to—you?" she asks carefully, because she doesn't want to assume anything. After what happened in San Francisco she pushed him away, no doubts, no questions asked—she couldn't look at him, or maybe she just couldn't stand him looking at her the same way while on the outside and on the inside she had fresh scars healing too slowly.

Dan chuckles. "That wasn't fair."

"It's okay," she says. Her type hadn't really changed, but in Reid she'd found a kinship far more important than whatever she had before—maybe Reid wasn't much like Dan, but he related to her in ways no one else could. "And for what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"You went through something horrible, Leigh," Dan says. "I didn't blame you for pushing me away. I still don't."

They're only excuses he makes for her—no one would ever label what happened with Mumford as anything less than horrible, but that didn't give her the right to simply discount everyone in her life that mattered, like the people who loved her that weren't family. People like Dan.

"Still, I could've handled it better," Leighton says.

Only that fateful day meant a break in her life, she was literally cut down and forced to rebuilt a life where she didn't trust anyone, not her colleagues with her life, not her family with her pain, not herself with her reflection in the mirror. Life became the 'before' and the 'after', two lives lived differently, experienced differently.

She pushed Dan away because he knew her before Mumford, the young and reckless FBI agent that moved too fast, that let her confidence take precedent over her training, and he had no business in knowing this newly broken girl trying too hard to keep the pieces of herself together. She had to get to know herself all over again.

Her old life was gone.

Her old life was the before.

"That's definitely true." Dan laughs.

She remembers that laugh, she remembers his lips on hers, but the memories are like looking at old photographs in a forgotten album somewhere, the people on them younger, different, not yet what they are when regarding the pictures later.

"You're different," Dan says suddenly and Leighton can't help but wonder if he means she's more guarded, more private, less prone to trusting people blindly. But to her surprise he makes an entirely different observation. "You're happy," he says.

Leighton smiles and nods, looking away shyly. "I am."

"You want to tell me why Reid's been walking around with a long face?"

She casts down her eyes. "He lost his father a few weeks ago," she explains.

"They were close?"

"The opposite." Leighton takes a deep breath. "He's just been—struggling."

They all know it's getting bad—Reid's been trying to deal with his pain on his own and everyone that tries to talk to him about it hits a dead end eventually. The team knows him well enough to know when to apply pressure and when to back off, but it's been weeks and nothing's changed.

She recognizes this, she's done this herself. But she won't let Reid push her away.

"Don't let him push you away," Dan says, and it forces her to look up at him again. Maybe she'd misjudged their relationship, maybe Dan loved her more than she ever gave him credit for. Maybe she just never wanted to see it.

"Take care of yourself, Leigh," he says, and where in the past he would have probably touched her, he now leaves it at that.

"You too," Leighton says.

#

The car drive home remains eerily silent. It's not awkward, they're both just sunk away in thought and silence has been their companion for a while now anyway.

Leighton's thinking about Dan and how unfairly she treated him, severing all ties with him after getting injured. It was sudden and immediate and he'd deserved so much better than that. But she hadn't exactly been thinking straight. At least she'd been smart enough to go to her family, to the people she knew would never stop loving her, would never hurt her, would never _leave_ her. That's why she's sticking with Reid; she wants to see him through this. Because that's what people do when they love each other.

Reid parks the car, kills the engine, but makes no move to leave the car.

So Leighton waits.

"Did you love him?" Reid asks, and it's about the last thing Leighton imagined he'd ask.

"Dan?" she asks, voice betraying her shock. Why is that even a question? She no longer has any interest in Dan. "We didn't date long enough for that," she answers. She realizes those are her own thoughts on their brief relationship—she knows now Dan's feelings were much stronger. "After—" _Mumford_, she means to say, but knows it doesn't need to be said. "I pushed him away. I really hurt him."

_Like _he's_ hurting her?_ Reid wonders, and a different sort of hurt—unlike the one that's been his companion these past few weeks—cuts through him.

He has to say something, make her know that he's not pushing her away but there are things he's dealing with that he can't explain. No, he _can_ explain, he just knows that they could potentially break her heart, feed into her own fears of things he _can't_ give her. But his love for her isn't in question—there's really only one way to say it at this point.

"Leigh—" he starts, swallowing around the lump in his throat. "You have to know." He looks up at her, but fails to look her in the eye. "I love you," he adds softly. "I'm just—"

Leighton's hand is on his before he finishes. "I know," she says, and when he looks up her eyes are shining with tears. She needed to hear it so badly. "And I understand." She sniffles, squeezing his hand in hers. "I love you too."

* * *

><p><strong>if you can, please let me know what you think!<strong>


	34. Don't Make Me Lose You

**author's notes: **pfew, this felt like a monster of a chapter to finish. so sorry for the longer waits between chapters, you guys, i'm working on two stories at the same time and i've been pretty busy getting things sorted for an internship i'm starting next month. still, so many thanks to each and every one of you reading and reviewing, it's so very much appreciated! special thanks to my beta-sitter **Inwenalas** whose enthusiasm never fails to inspire me :)

**characters:** Reid/Leighton (OC), Hotch, Natalie (OC), JJ

**warning:** scenes are NOT chronological

* * *

><p><strong>SCARS REMIND US WHERE WE'VE BEEN;;<strong>

****chapter thirty-three********  
><strong>**

* * *

><p><strong>date: <strong>June 26th, 2013

The cat jumping on the bed wakes her up, Jones nestling around her feet all warm and cuddly. Leighton casts a glance at the clock on the nightstand: 2am. She knows without looking that Reid's left the bed, otherwise the cat couldn't have gotten into the room. She lies still and listens, Jones softly purring, but she can't hear Reid anywhere in the apartment.

She fell asleep in Reid's arms only a few hours ago, but her body still feels completely wrecked; the children's faces come to life in front of her eyes, the UnSub's eyes forever burned in her memory now. The only reason she didn't have any nightmares was because Reid's arms had been around her, his lips against her forehead—but now she wonders if he got any sleep himself. Somehow she doubts it.

Leighton gets up and opens the door far enough to slip through, but she makes sure Jones stays inside. There's no room for distractions now. Reid's not in the living room though. There's not a light on in the entire apartment and for a split second she thinks maybe he went out for a walk, maybe he needed to clear his head and had just waited until she fell asleep. But his car and house keys are still on the kitchen counter.

She wanders to the spare rooms, even though she doesn't know what Reid would be doing in either of them. One of them is still completely empty and they use the other for storing things that they still have to give a proper place in the apartment. And of course there's the stuff they brought with them from Vegas—William Reid's books, mostly. Part of Leighton thinks it's too much to hope for, that Reid can't be looking through them, and when she walks through the door she's proven right: Reid's standing in front of the window, dressed only in a white t-shirt and pajama bottoms, his arms crossed over his chest, staring out in front of him.

Leighton walks over to him, but doesn't say anything—she just puts a hand on his shoulder. He looks down at her, a quirk of a smile pulling at his lips, and kisses the top of her head once it settles on his shoulder too.

"You should be sleeping," he says.

"So should you," Leighton answers softly.

He'd tried to sleep, the weight of Leighton in his arms almost cancelled out the pain and heartache their last case had left them both with, but then somehow his mind got filled with the victims' names again and sleep had eluded him. He'd gotten up because he didn't want to run the risk of waking up Leighton again once she'd drifted off.

Reid shakes his head. "I can't sleep," he says. "The case—" He knows he doesn't have to say anything more.

"I haven't been able to think about much else either," Leighton says, the case details still fresh in her mind, the three dead children, the few still missing, their names, their faces. And the UnSub smiling at her and Emily from across the table. "But you saved lives today."

"Not enough lives," Reid says, voice small.

Leighton looks up at him. "You shouldn't blame yourself." It sounds like a plea.

He feels put on the spot again, like in that conversation he had with Hotch after the hostage situation at Lafayette Elementary School. It was a conversation he'd really hoped to put off for a while longer, but he knows his behavior has been affecting his profiling.

#

He raps his knuckles on the open door, signaling his presence. Hotch looks up from his files; he's sitting on the couch in his office, files scattered over the table and it immediately makes him look less professional than usual. Reid thinks he probably did that on purpose. "You wanted to see me?" Reid asks, refusing to cut to the chase right away, even though they both know why he's here.

"Close the door," Hotch says and drops his pen on the table. "Have a seat."

Reid closes the door and stares at the empty settee to his left. He starts biting his lip. "I think I'd rather stand," he says, shifts uncomfortably where he stands, hands in his pockets.

Hotch doesn't comment. "How are you feeling?" he asks.

Reid frowns. Is that what this is about? "I'm—fine?" he says tentatively.

Nothing in Hotch's expression gives away what he's thinking. "Sit down," he says, all politeness gone from his voice.

Reid sits down without objection this time, but stares down at the floor.

Hotch was hoping to avoid this conversation. He knows his team well enough to know how to handle them, so he figured Reid would take his time handling his father's death the same way he usually did—retreat behind a wall of silence, of thinly veiled annoyance at being asked how he's doing. But this time was different. Hotch had underestimated the extent of the abandonment issues Reid's father had left him with. Somehow it had tapped into other fears, maybe fresher fears that his relationship with Leighton has forced him to face.

At first Hotch had tried to let it run its course; he knew Leighton would reach out and help him through this as best she could, and maybe he should have intervened when everyone noticed that she wasn't getting very far. But then Morgan sat down for a talk with Reid and even Garcia forced him to open up and Hotch had truly believed things would start looking up for Reid.

Usually once Reid's had someone to talk to he starts opening up again, but that hasn't been the case so far. It's different this time: his behavior always stemmed from anger, anger over Gideon leaving without a proper explanation, over a drug addiction he couldn't get a handle on himself, over JJ keeping secrets from him. This latest behavior isn't fueled by anger. This is fear.

"How are you and Leighton doing?" Hotch asks, trying to wade into the deeper issues slowly.

Reid's eyes shoot up, taken by surprise. "We're—" but instead of adding 'fine' he changes his mind. He casts down his eyes. He wonders if Hotch is the only one who's realized the fears at the root of his behavior; Hotch is a father, after all, and didn't have the best relationship with his own father. "We're better," Reid confesses. At least they've found a new way of communicating.

After getting jealous of Dan Torre he knew he had to talk, it was his move—Leighton had been trying, _everyone_ had been trying to help him. Hotch is right, this is fear; he's afraid that he won't live up to expectations, his own and Leighton's, everything feels like it's coming at him at full speed and he has no idea how to keep himself from drowning.

"You know there's people you can talk to," Hotch says against his better judgment, but maybe that's a last resort. Reid can't keep going like this.

Reid looks up. "You mean—"

"A therapist." Hotch doesn't release his eyes.

Reid feels his heart drop—Hotch knows he doesn't like therapists. "I don't need therapy."

"You need to find a way to communicate about this with Leighton."

Reid stares down at the floor again. "I know."

Hotch takes a deep breath; he doesn't want to say what he's about to say, but he has to think about the team, about their dynamic and Reid's been throwing it off. They've all been trying to pick up the slack, covering for Reid, but that'll never keep working. So he does decide to say it, as the team's leader he has to make the tough decisions. Reid will understand that.

"You're both on this team because you proved you can work together without your relationship interfering," Hotch says. "But if that's no longer the case—"

"No," Reid interrupts, feeling his heart beat dully in his chest. "We're—" _we're fine_, _we're working our way through this_, _we'll _make_ it_. "I'm not—" _I'm not okay, but I'm _trying.

Reid takes a deep breath. "Don't punish Leighton for my behavior."

"I don't say this lightly, Reid," Hotch says, but a sense of relief spreads through him when Reid manages to keep his cool rather than lash out again.

"I'll talk to her," Reid concedes.

#

He'd talked to Leighton, somewhat, but it's hard for him to talk about this when he knows it'll scare Leighton as well. Maybe this is what a relationship is really about, sharing his doubts and pain with someone and trusting Leighton not to poke at the wound further.

He shrugs. "I just feel like I could have done more."

"We all feel that way."

"No, it's—"

"Stop it." Leighton's hand is on his cheek, forcing him to look at her. "You've been overcompensating at work, Spence," she says. "Ever since you had that talk with Hotch."

"That's not true," he says, even though he's well aware it's true. He doesn't want Hotch to reassign Leighton just because he can't keep his emotions in check. He loves working with Leighton, they've always known how to be professional despite their personal relationship and if anything of that relationship was now showing—that was his fault.

"Yes, it is, Spence," Leighton says. "It's what we do. We're all profilers, skilled in noticing people's behavior, but when it comes to our own we're clueless. You're trying too hard, sweetie, you have to—"

"Let go?" Reid asks. "I can't just—" he shakes his head, catching on his own words and Leighton's _sweetie_ at the same time—did she mean to call him that?

"You're not alone," Leighton pleads, and he's not sure if she picked up on her own slip. "You're still the smartest guy in the room, but you're not alone."

He gets it, he doesn't have to show people what he thinks they want to see—this is the team, his _family_, he doesn't have to hide from them. He doesn't have to prove anything.

Leighton forces his chin up again. "Don't push us away," she says.

#

Leighton puts the dirty dishes down on the sink, followed closely by Natalie with the empty wine glasses.

"Did we come at a bad time?" Natalie asks, while she hands Leighton plates to fill the dishwasher. "Spencer seems—"

"He's okay." Leighton straightens herself out and runs a hand through her hair. "He's dealing with some things—" She shrugs, but when she meets Natalie's gaze she knows she's not fooling her sister. Dinner had been really nice, with Joe and Natalie there, Ben and his girlfriend, and Reid had seemed fine. But apparently her sister had learned to pick up on Reid's moods as well as her.

Natalie pours them both some of the leftover wine and hands her a glass. Leighton sighs. "Don't worry," she says. "I'll get through to him. I just need more time."

"You really love him, don't you?"

Leighton eyes her sister and arches an eyebrow. "This is news to you?" she asks.

"It's just—" Natalie takes a breath. "You lived with Eric in college, but you were never this serious about him."

Leighton casts down her eyes. "A lot's happened since then, sis," she says. "I'm not that person anymore."

It's funny to her how both her sister and her brother still see her as a child that needs to be asked if she's sure about all the choices she makes in her life. Sometimes it's like San Francisco never happened at all, like her family considers it in the past and part of her appreciates that—her family will always see her the same way, they don't equate her with an FBI profiler but as the youngest sister in a big family. Part of her resents they don't realize how much of her past she'll always carry with her.

Natalie looks at Reid over her shoulder. "You're not—" she starts, but swallows the rest of her question before looking back at Leighton.

Realization dawns on Leighton. "I'm not settling," she answers, an incredulous tone coloring her voice. She knows her and Reid broke up once, but when they got back together it wasn't because it was easy or convenient. But she realizes that getting angry at her sister for assuming that won't do anyone any good. "He loves me. I love him."

She takes a sip from her wine. "And one day we're going to make you an aunt," Leighton adds, hoping to alleviate some of the tension.

Natalie's the one to raise an eyebrow now. "Someday soon?" she smiles.

Leighton chuckles. "We'll see about that."

#

"Don't push _me_ away," Leighton insists, eyes digging into his.

Reid averts his eyes and bites the inside of his cheek. "I don't mean to, I'm—" This is it, he thinks, he can say this, even with the possibility of hurting Leighton in the process he has to talk about it. Otherwise they'll never get past this. "I'm afraid I'm going to be exactly like him."

"Your dad?" Leighton asks.

He takes hold of Leighton's hands between his. "He wasn't a bad person, he just—" He stares down at their hands. "He was in over his head and he ran. And I understand that."

He looks at Leighton tentatively. Some of the resolve has left her eyes, replaced with the same worry he's seen before—his own fears have made her scared of losing him.

But the doubt leaves Leighton's eyes almost immediately. "You're not your father, Spence," she says.

"Aren't I?" he asks. "Just looking around his apartment—"

"Those are material things." Leighton shakes her head. "So he liked going to the movies and he drowned himself in his work." She shrugs. "That's not who you are. You're a genius FBI profiler who saves lives every day, and you have this amazing family who will never leave you."

"And at the risk of starting a fight: I'm not your mother," Leighton says. "I'm not going to let you walk away without putting up a fight. When I feel you pulling away I'm going to keep doing this time and time again, just like you would for me."

"And if that's not enough, I always know how to use a gun," Leighton jokes.

Reid chuckles. He pulls her into a hug, his arms around her tight. Leighton closes her eyes, one hand tangling in the short hair at the back of his neck, the other clutching at his shirt. Reid buries his face in her neck, breathing in deeply. He doesn't know why he's been pushing this away for so long—he's not a very physical person, but he needs this. He needs Leighton.

In that moment he realizes just how patient Leighton's been with him.

He moves back, but Leighton's hands are on his cheeks and she pulls him in for a kiss, lips greedy against his—he gives her what she needs because he needs it too, this closeness, this intimacy and a way to cancel out all the static. The past few days have been downright horrifying, the long hours, the innocent lives lost— It all disappears, if only for a few moments.

"How about we both try to get some sleep this time?" Leighton asks, her hands still in his hair.

"Okay," he whispers, and presses another kiss to Leighton's lips.

He takes Leighton by the hand and they make their way to the bedroom again, letting Jones sleep at the end of the bed this time. But this time around Leighton fails to find sleep—she knows she's been encouraging Reid to talk about his problems and she's glad he did, but it's made her realize she still has her own share of worries to work through.

#

It still hits her so hard every time; cases with children involved have always affected her more than any others and Leighton considers it a blessing that she's been spared one so gruesome up until now. She knows her reaction would have been the same, that she wouldn't have been spared the nausea or heartbreak no matter how much experience she gained, but no one should have to know there are men out there that do this to children.

Leighton's outside waiting by the cars, taking some time to herself while the rest of the team wraps things up inside.

"Are you okay?" JJ's voice cuts through the haze of horrific images plaguing her.

"Not really," Leighton answers, leaning back against the car and stares up at the night sky. She feels JJ join her. "How can I—" She runs a hand through her hair. "How can I ever have kids?"

She says 'I' because she knows Reid's reluctance to start a family comes from fear of passing on his mother's genes and fear that he'll leave just like his father—but cases like this always stop her short as well. "After everything that I've been through and everything that I've seen? How—?"

"You forget," JJ says.

Leighton looks at JJ.

"We do see horrible things," she says. "Unthinkable things. But I just have to look at Henry and all that disappears." JJ mirrors Leighton's position against the car.

Leighton knows this is one panicky moment in a very stressful situation, but the fear has already seeped in and her mind is racing. She doesn't want to be one of those paranoid mothers that smothers her child, even if she knows what monsters are out there. She doesn't want to become distrusting of people just because she knows more than anyone what's out there in the shadows. And what about the scar tissue after her surgery? Is she even able to have children?

"You're going to make a great mother one day, Leigh," JJ adds. "And Spence is going to be a great father."

"He's—" Leighton shakes her head.

"He's scared," JJ says. "Just like you. Just like I was for all the same reasons. But one look at that ultrasound or that newborn baby and all your worries will go away."

Leighton chuckles, even though she's not exactly seeing the humor in the situation. "I don't know about that," she says. "Reid knows I'll leave if we ever—"

"You'd leave the BAU?" JJ asks.

"I've tempted fate often enough," Leighton answers.

She sees the hypocrisy of the situation as much as JJ must be hearing it; Emily and Hotch and Garcia had their own near-death experiences and they were still going strong, but Leighton's not like them—they hold onto their jobs to provide them with a sense of purpose—Garcia wants to make her colored world brighter one case at a time, Hotch justifies it by showing his son his father believes in something. Even Reid knows there's something incredibly right about where he is with the team. And despite the fact that every single person on that team is a close friend, family even, ever since Mumford she's been looking for that sense of purpose.

Sure, she's putting bad guys behind bars, she's saving innocent people from falling victim to these monsters, but if these cases involving children remind her of anything it's that she can't do this forever. She won't let this job become her life. A family, however, that can become her life. It's taken her years to realize this, but maybe she'd like a life more closely resembling her sister's.

"If we have a baby—" Leighton adds. "I can't keep doing this."

JJ smiles sympathetically and puts a hand on Leighton's shoulder. "I understand," she says.

* * *

><p><strong>if you can, please let me know what you think!<strong>


	35. Works In Progress

**author's notes: **BREAKING NEWS: I AM UPDATING! i don't even know what to say other than i'm really really sorry and blame it on my first slash ship? between Seblaining and my internship i'm struggling to find time to write anything at all, but i WILL finish this one! it's highest on my list of priorities and i will NOT abandon it. so hence, new chapter :) hope you all enjoy!

**characters:** Reid/Leighton (OC), Morgan, Garcia, JJ, Emily, Hotch, Rossi, Strauss, Mick Rawson

**additional notes:** Mick Rawson is a character in _Criminal Minds: Suspect Behavior_, and also features in the season 5 crossover episode _The Fight_.

* * *

><p><strong>SCARS REMIND US WHERE WE'VE BEEN;;<strong>

****chapter thirty-four****

* * *

><p><strong>date: <strong>August 15th, 2013

Leighton stretches out long in bed, Jones rolled up in a ball next to her. It's been weeks since she's been able to sleep in like this, but judging by the empty spot next to her Reid hadn't felt the need to do the same. Unfortunately she's no sooner turned on her back when the panic cuts through her again: today's the day, today she finds out if she'll be able to have children, or if her injury has left her too scarred. She'd never wondered before because five years ago it was far more important to heal up and get back to work. But now with Reid, a steady relationship, her biological clock ticking and her baby wish only growing, it's a question she needed to ask. If not just for her own peace of mind.

She hates how long it's dragged on already, weeks of waiting now, but it'd be hard to schedule an appointment with her gynecologist even if she'd had regular work hours. It's work that keeps her going though, Reid and her colleagues a welcome distraction, days spent in hotel rooms away from home. But she'd be lying if she said her nightmares hadn't returned. They were worse this time around, because they involved babies and blood and her body in scenarios she shouldn't allow herself to think about during the day.

She sighs and drags herself out of bed, taking a quick shower. She can't look at her scar without experiencing the same defeatist feeling of immobility—the scar has somewhat faded over the past five years, but she'd see it even if it would disappear completely. And if it now turns out she can't have children—what point was there to any of this?

"Hey," she says as she makes her way into the kitchen, Reid standing behind the counter with his nose buried in a book.

"Morning."

"What are you reading?"

"A collection of essays by Isaac Asimov," Reid answers, all while focusing on his book.

Leighton's eyes widen in surprise; Reid's reading one of his father's books. She knows the past few months have been good for Reid, he's sorted through some issues, but this is a pretty big step. "Is it any good?" she asks.

"It's fascinating." Reid nods. "Most of his popular science books explain scientific concepts in a historical way, so he goes as far back as possible to a time when the science in question was at its simplest stage." Reid chuckles, giddy almost. "He often provides nationalities, birth dates and death dates for the scientists he mentions, as well as etymologies and pronunciation guides for technical terms."

Reid finally looks at her.

Leighton's smile widens.

"What?" Reid asks.

Leighton reaches up on tiptoe and presses a kiss to Reid's lips. "I love you," she says.

Reid grins. "Love you too."

He watches Leighton grab a mug from an overhead cupboard, add a teabag and turn on the water boiler. She seats herself at the kitchen table without any food, but starts checking her phone instead.

"Have you heard from Natalie?" Reid asks. He knows she's worried about her doctor's appointment tonight and he doesn't want to point it out for fear that Leighton might shut down completely, only he doesn't want to appear apathetic to her worries either. He might not be able to fully understand her pain, but he sympathizes.

"Not yet," Leighton answers.

"I could come with you," he says tentatively.

Leighton looks up and meets his eyes. "Spence, we've talked about this," she says. "It wouldn't be comfortable for either of us." She looks away again. "I'm already nervous as is."

They had talked about it for a few nights in a row, because suddenly Leighton's fear that she might have scar tissue made having children so incredibly _real_, while it was still just a concept in his mind. But Leighton's insistence on getting it checked out, the sheer panic in her eyes whenever she allowed herself to think about it, the lost-in-thought stillness that came over her from time to time,—it made him realize he had to support her through this no matter what. He wouldn't show his fears. He wouldn't give in to his doubts.

He wasn't sure who brought it up first, but Leighton told him he shouldn't come if he was going to be uncomfortable. Because she was going to be tense and uncomfortable whether he was there or not and she didn't need him to make it worse. He hadn't seen the point in lying to her despite all his best intentions. And then Natalie had offered—apparently she could be persuasive when she needed to be.

"So now you'll be uncomfortable on your own," he says.

That's what does it.

Leighton gets up from behind the table and pours herself some tea, staring down at her mug in contemplation.

He walks over to her, a hand at the small of her back. "Leigh—" he starts, but Leighton shakes her head. He can't tell if he went too far in his insistence to talk about this or if she realizes she has to.

"I don't really want Natalie there either." She sighs. Reid frowns; why wouldn't she want someone there who would understand the discomfort she'd go through? Leighton turns to face him, fingers playing with the buttons on his shirt. "I don't want to go alone, but I need someone who's—"

"Who's what?" he asks.

"Not a child-bearing machine," Leighton says, her hands locking together nervously now. "Because if I get bad news she'll say everything will be okay, only it won't be. I won't be able to have children, and she'll have four. And I'll be—"

Reid puts his hands on Leighton's cheeks, stopping her short. "Don't do that," he says. "You don't know anything yet."

"But what if?" Leighton asks, and all her fear comes flooding right back to her eyes, filling with tears. "What if I can't have children?"

A solemn tear runs down her cheek; he wipes it away with his thumb. He knows what's at the core of her fear, it's not just that she won't be able to carry any baby of her own—if there's scar tissue there's always surrogacy, but what really terrifies her is that this would be another thing Mumford has taken from her. After the scars and the fear and the nightmares, after Sylvia and this shell she'd created around herself for protection—Mumford's not allowed to take this from her too. And that he does understand.

Reid hugs his arms around her. "You know the probability of scar tissue forming after surgery or trauma is infinitesimally small."

Leighton chuckles against his neck. "No percentages on that, Dr Reid?"

He releases a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. "We'll find a way," he says and he realizes that he means it. Concepts are good while they last, like an item on a list waiting to be struck off. It's time he gets past this. If not just to make sure he doesn't lose Leighton. He thinks that might be one of his own deepest fears.

Leighton pulls back but remains locked in his arms. "Be patient with me today, alright?" she asks.

He smiles—they've come quite a way. "Always," he says and presses a kiss to her lips.

Half an hour later they're settling down at their desks at work. Hotch hadn't paged or texted them, which meant the first few hours of their day, if not the entire day, would be spend finishing up their considerable piles of paperwork. None so considerable as Leighton's—she'd fallen behind these past few weeks.

Morgan, who had probably already been at work, strolls in leisurely. "Morning, kids." He beams.

"Someone's in a good mood," Leighton says, and leans back in her chair.

"Life is beautiful, Tanner," Morgan says. "Can't deny that, can you?"

Leighton looks at Reid. "It's finally happened," she mocks. "Morgan's lost his mind."

"Only a matter of time, really," Reid deadpans.

Leighton giggles, but diligently starts at her paperwork.

"You two make fun all you want, but I spent the night talking to the single most interesting woman I have ever met."

Reid arches an eyebrow, but continues to leaf through his file. "Just talking?"

"Alright. I get it." Morgan shrugs. "I'm obviously not talking to the morning crowd."

"Speaking of which—" Reid perks up and looks at Leighton. "You want some coffee?"

Leighton shakes her head. "No, I'm good."

Morgan's eyes follow Reid to the other side of the room before he refocuses his attention to Leighton. "By the way, Tanner, I still need your report on the sniper," he says, thinking maybe work can offer a welcome distraction today. "And Garcia needs the digital files."

Leighton nods without looking away from her computer screen. From where he's standing he can see her chewing her lips, much like she did when they first met all those years ago. Sometimes it's hard to imagine how that girl is the same woman he calls his partner now.

He decides to leave Leighton to her work and her own thoughts, and joins Reid by the coffee machine. "So," he says. "She's nervous, hu?"

"Who—?" _told you?_ Reid means to ask, but Morgan has mouthed 'JJ' before he gets the chance to. "She's nervous," Reid confirms. "But she'll power through."

Morgan has little doubt Leighton will be able to make it through the procedure without losing it, but what if she gets bad news? Would she consider alternatives like surrogacy or adoption? Or will it shut her down like he's seen her do before, shut everything and everyone out, including Reid. What will bad news mean for their relationship?

"And you guys are okay?" Morgan asks.

"We are."

"You're down with this then?" Morgan asks, surprised by Reid's composure. But maybe Reid's trying to keep it together for Leighton. Still, he never thought Reid would be this calm about an issue this serious. "Being a father?

"No, man." Reid looks away, and Morgan's even more surprised when he doesn't leave it at that. "I'm terrified," Reid says. "But it's what she wants. And—I don't want to lose her."

Morgan's not sure that's the right reason to start on a journey towards fatherhood, but he also believes that despite Reid's fears he'd make a great dad one day—it's a learning process, as are all things in life, and when has Reid not worked hard at understanding something?

Morgan grins. "I told you that girl was a keeper."

"When have you ever told me that?" Reid frowns.

Morgan chuckles. "It was implied," he says. "Alright, pretty boy, back to work."

Reid gives him a half-hearted salute. "Yes, sir."

He leaves Reid alone in the break room and makes his way into the lobby—he knows he's probably worrying too much about his younger colleagues, they've already overcome several obstacles now and it seems they're dead-set on making it through together. But it's not mere concern that keeps him asking; he knows part of him wants to believe that a steady relationship is possible in combination with what they do. Hotch didn't manage to make his marriage work, even though Morgan knows Hayley and Hotch never stopped loving each other; Garcia and Kevin are in their 'on again' stage of their relationship; and if his instincts are correct, Will and JJ are going through a rough time at home.

But Reid and Leighton, after their initial breakup, their time spent apart, Reid's aneurysm, Leighton's past resurfacing, Reid's father dying—they'd somehow made it through all of that and are only growing stronger. He just hopes it's more than the job holding them together. He thinks that if Leighton ever did have a baby, she might leave the BAU.

The elevator doors in the lobby open, revealing a lip locked Kevin and Garcia inside. He averts his eyes, waiting for realization to kick in for both of them, but ends up clearing his throat to signal his presence. Garcia and Kevin in an 'on again' stage seem pretty intense.

"There's my sugar," Garcia says, stepping out of the elevator, Kevin following close behind.

"Hey, mama," Morgan says. "Kevin."

"Agent," Kevin nods, and chuckles. "See you tonight," he tells Garcia and leaves down the hallway.

Garcia slaps his shoulder. "Stop terrifying him like that."

"Baby girl," Morgan says. "I got no problems with your boyfriend. Your boyfriend has problems with me."

"He's protective." Garcia pouts. "It's sweet."

"As sweet as I am, _sugar_?"

Garcia laughs. "Shut up."

"Hey, guys," JJ's voice sounds out of nowhere.

Morgan looks around, wondering exactly where JJ came from. "How long have you been here?" he asks. He's been back for months now, working hard to prove to Hotch and Strauss that he can be trusted, and this included showing off his organizational and leadership skills—Hotch had delegated and let him take on more responsibilities too. He was pretty much co-running the unit now. But he's never been able to match JJ's work ethic—exactly how many hours did she work?

"Since five," JJ answers. "Hotch wanted me to find our next case. You?"

"Six. Wanted to finalize some paperwork," he answers. "Which I'm getting back to." If Hotch has JJ triaging for a new case, it's best he finishes his paperwork before they head out. Otherwise it'll be no time before he's behind and trying desperately to catch up like Leighton. Of course, Leighton has other things on her mind besides paperwork.

"Girl's night tonight?" Garcia asks, watching Morgan walk down the hall until he disappears out of sight. "We'll ask Em and Leigh—"

"Can't," JJ interrupts. "Leigh's got a doctor's—" She stops herself. Did Leighton intent for that to stay private? "She can't," JJ corrects, but realizes the damage has already been done.

"A doctor's what?" Garcia asks, her eyes going wide. "Is there something wrong? Is she sick? Oh my God, is she pregnant?" She grabs JJ's arm in an almost vice-like grip.

"What? No." JJ shakes her head. Garcia's eyes dig into hers and she doesn't let go of her arm—she knows that if she keeps quiet it'll only make Garcia pry more. "Okay, but you didn't hear it from me." She looks around quickly to make sure Leighton's well out of earshot and draws herself closer to Garcia. "She's afraid her injury might have left her with too much scar tissue to have a baby. She's getting it checked out tonight."

"Oh my God," Garcia breathes. "Poor Leigh."

JJ nods to herself solemnly. She can't imagine what it must feel like to want children that bad and then be told you can't because of something that happened on the job. Henry wasn't exactly planned, but she couldn't imagine life without him anymore. And being told by anyone that she couldn't have children, well, she doesn't want to think about what that could do to Leighton. Or her relationship with Reid.

"You think they're seriously considering—you know, little 'uns?" Garcia asks, voice lowered as well.

"I honestly don't know," JJ answers. She knows Leighton wants children, and she suspects Reid could come to see it Leighton's way given some more time, but she's not sure they'd get started on that right away.

"Can you imagine a mini Reid?" Garcia asks, finally letting go of JJ's arm, getting lost in her own imagination. "Oh, with the glasses and everything?"

JJ smiles to herself. It has been tempting to picture Reid as a dad—she imagines him reading children's books to his son or daughter like he does to Henry, changing his voice for every different character. But she shouldn't get ahead of herself, something Leighton probably hasn't allowed herself either. Leighton's more than likely preparing herself to hear bad news—maybe it's for the best, that way she'll be prepared, and good news will only be a relief.

The elevators ding open again, Emily appearing moments later.

"Well, look who's the last to show up for work," JJ says.

"Everyone's here already?" Emily checks her watch in a rush, struggling with her briefcase and her cup of coffee. "We don't have a case, do we? I didn't get a page."

"Relax," JJ breathes. "I'm teasing."

But Emily only briefly sighs in relief.

"Long night?" Garcia asks.

Emily shrugs, clearly not up for a lot of small talk. "Not really."

"What about—?" Garcia raises an eyebrow. Neither Emily nor JJ has to ask what Garcia's referring to.

"We just had drinks," Emily answers, nothing in her expression changing. "We talked," she says and averts her eyes. "Don't make it into more than it is."

Garcia shakes her head, face falling. "I wasn't."

"I should get to work," Emily says, but doesn't wait for either JJ or Garcia to reply before she turns and heads for the bullpen.

"What was that all about?" Garcia asks, her eyes sad. "Did I say something wrong?"

"It's the first time she's dated someone since Doyle," JJ says, even though she thinks it's probably something deeper than that. It's no secret that Emily still has her bad days and for some reason it's often Garcia who gets the worst of it. "I think she just needs to take her time."

Garcia sighs. "I miss her."

Emily takes no pride in treating Garcia the way she does whenever she's in a bad mood, but sometimes she can't help it. There's something incredibly triggering about Garcia's rosy-eyed view on the world that doesn't sit right with her, it eats at her, and sometimes all she wants to do is shake Garcia and scream at her, scream that not everything in life is cream-colored. There's a dark and gritty underside to everything and everyone and she really wishes Garcia could see how dark and gritty her world became.

But Emily knows it's the symptom of something much deeper, something she hesitates putting the term 'PTSD' to because she's been back in the field for months now and it's still there. She knows she's changed, she woke up at Bethesda Naval Hospital a different person and this new person is taking her sweet time finding her place again. Deep down she fears nothing or no one will ever feel normal again and all she can do to keep from drowning is find a new way of dealing with things.

She's been trying so hard, but it isn't getting any easier.

"Morning," Emily says when she reaches her desk. Reid waves at her, but Leighton sits unresponsive behind her computer screen. Emily shoots Reid a questioning look.

"She's behind on her paperwork," Reid explains, but Emily can tell it's more than that. Leighton's chewing her lips again, a clear sign that she's stressed, and paperwork doesn't cause this kind of stress.

"Sorry," Leighton says, casting Emily a brief glance.

Emily manages a half-hearted smile; if there's anything she gets it's stress. And if there's anyone she understands on the team, it's Leighton. It's recent, and maybe it's sad to feel connected to her because she underwent trauma as well, but Leighton's reciprocal understanding is often a welcome change from her other colleagues' learned empathy. "It's okay," Emily tries her best to reassure Leighton.

She settles down at her desk for her own paperwork.

It's a quiet day even by their standards, people going about their usual business, Garcia popping in and out, but mostly she finds her way to JJ or Morgan. Hotch and Rossi show themselves now and then, both busy with their own work. By lunchtime Emily has all her reports finished, while Leighton's still tapping away at her keyboard—half her pile has been worked through, but she saw Reid snatch away a file here or there. If Leighton notices, she chooses not to say anything. Maybe she doesn't need to.

"Need any help?" Emily asks, and playfully slaps her file against Leighton's shoulder. "Because I'm filing mine," she teases.

Leighton chuckles and shakes her head; Emily considers it at least a small victory.

She walks up the few steps to reach Hotch's office and walks in knocking. "My reports," she says, and holds up her file.

"Thanks," Hotch says, watching her closely as she places the file on his desk. She turns away and plans on heading back out, but she knows Hotch will say something before he's even started speaking. "Emily," he says. "Is everything okay?"

Of course there's more than one person on the team who understands what she's going through. Even Garcia must understand to some extent, so she must know this isn't something she can snap out of; Doyle had robbed her of a confidence not easily won back.

"I'm—struggling," Emily answers. "But not with something I can talk to you about. I was thinking of asking Leighton out for some drinks," she says. "So we can talk between girls."

"Very well," Hotch says.

Emily's grateful he doesn't address her blatant lie.

Leighton's going through her cellphone when Emily settles at her desk again.

"What is it?" Reid asks, clearly aware of what's going on with Leighton.

"Natalie can't make it." Leighton sighs. "Joshua has the flu." And before Reid manages to offer a comforting word, Leighton gets up from her chair and crosses the room—Emily's certain it's not because she was hit with a sudden caffeine craving.

"What was that all about?" Emily asks.

"Personal stuff," Reid answers carefully.

"Serious?" Emily asks.

Reid only nods in response.

So there is something up with Leighton's incessant gnawing at her lips. Should she ask Leighton what's bothering her? Maybe Leighton would rather she didn't. But there's something that takes over, concern most likely, and she gets up from her chair and walks over to Leighton, who's making herself a cup of tea.

"Everything okay?" Emily asks, pretending she happened to walk over at the same time Leighton was there, grabbing a mug from the counter. Leighton looks up at her as if waiting for an explanation for the question. "You're biting your lips again," Emily says. "You only do that when you're stressed."

Leighton takes a deep breath. "I'm having minor invasive surgery done tonight," she says, her soft tone disguising the panic underneath. "A hysteroscopy."

Emily shakes her head. "Never heard of it."

Leighton doesn't look up to meet her eyes. "My gynecologist's going to check if there's any scar tissue from—"

"I understand," Emily interrupts, sensing that Leighton doesn't want to go into any detailed explanation. And who would, really? But now her sister won't make it? Why wouldn't Reid go with her? Not that men have the most laudable track record when it comes to taking visits to the gynecologists with their girlfriends. In her experience they only tend to tag along when there's an actual pregnancy involved. "I could come with you, if you like," Emily says, feeling the need to make sure Leighton knows there are other people here that love her and care for her.

"Oh no, you'd only be waiting outside," Leighton says. "It's just that Spence wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea so my sister suggested—"

"And _I'm_ suggesting to take her place," Emily interrupts again. "We can go out for drinks afterwards."

Leighton looks up at her carefully, gauging her reaction. Emily's not a 'child-bearing' machine, as she so delicately described her sister this morning, and it really would be nice to have someone wait with her at the doctor's office. "Okay," she says. "If it's no trouble."

"Not at all," Emily says. "It's not like I have someone waiting for me at home."

Leighton arches an eyebrow, seeing the perfect opportunity to not only change the subject but ask Emily about something everyone had been wondering about. "What about Agent Rawson?"

Emily smiles beyond her control; Leighton gets to do this, ask in the first place, and even tease her about it—there'll come a time when Garcia will get to do it again too, and she hopes Garcia hasn't given up on her by then, but it'll take some more time. "We went out on one date."

"Two," Leighton corrects, as would any of her other colleagues. "And you like him."

"I don't— _What?_" Emily blurts out too fast. "No." But she knows she's already given herself way. "I don't— _dis_like him. But I don't _like _him."

"_Uhu_." Leighton's clearly not impressed. "Whatever you have to tell yourself."

"Tell herself about what?" Reid's voice sounds from behind them.

Leighton turns, leaning back against the counter. "About Agent Rawson," she answers.

"Oh yeah." Reid says, as if he's suddenly been reminded of something important. "It's been—what?" He thinks it through. "Two dates now?"

"You know," –Emily shakes her head, pretending to disapprove– "things were so much simpler around here when you guys didn't team up."

Emily takes hold of her mug and makes her way back to her desk, leaving behind a Leighton that would've much rather continued her small talk. Because now she's getting nervous again, not focused on anything—and she won't see her sister tonight. She's not sure if she's disappointed that Natalie won't make it, or because she cancelled after insisting so much. Either way, the disappointment's there and she could've done without it today. She should get back to her paperwork. Speaking of paperwork, Garcia's still waiting for her digitized files.

She crosses the room again, inserts a disc in her PC and starts burning the pertinent data, throwing Reid a loving glance when he sneaks out another file from her stack. "What would I do without you?" she asks.

Reid smiles, thankful that he's learned to distinguish between real questions and rhetorical ones.

Leighton heads for Garcia's office fifteen minutes later, stopped short in her tracks once she's through the door by the sight of Garcia and Kevin making out in the middle of the room. Morgan had warned her about this earlier in the week—Leighton fails to suppress a smile, and clears her throat.

Kevin's the first one who notices her presence. "Agent Tanner!" he squeals and jumps away from the Garcia, readjusting his glasses.

"Kevin, seriously, how many times?" Leighton asks, deciding to ignore the clear blush in Kevin's and Garcia's cheeks and the look in their eyes that practically spells out 'busted.' "It's _Leighton_," she corrects, because after four years Kevin really should start calling her by her first name.

"I uhm—yes," Kevin stutters, "Of course—_Leighton_." He smiles a goofy grin. "I gotta go." And Kevin's out the door without sparing Garcia another glance.

"What's got him all jumpy?" Leighton asks.

Garcia averts her eyes guiltily. "Hotch might've walked in on us last week."

Leighton chuckles. "Back in the honeymoon phase, hu?" she asks, knowing Kevin and Garcia got back together again last week. For someone who abhors change, Garcia can't seem to make up her mind about what she wants from Kevin.

"Honeymoon?!" Garcia's yelps. "No, don't say that," she rattles and wags a finger at her. "We are not honey-mooning. There is nothing honey-moony to be had. Ever!"

Leighton guesses that Kevin's wedding proposal is still a touchy subject, so she decides not to mention it again. She holds out the computer discs she burned earlier. "The discs you asked for."

It's almost like she uses a magic word that tunes Garcia into a new frequency. "Yay!" Garcia smiles wide. "You have to embrace the digital age, home girl." She turns and sets the discs down on her desk, making a full turn to face Leighton again before she can make her escape. "Hey, are you okay?" Garcia asks.

"Yeah, why?"

"I heard about your doctor's appointment."

Leighton frowns. "How?" she asks. She only told JJ because she was in the room when she booked the time off with Hotch—Hotch had merely nodded his consent and been kind enough not to ask her any questions, but JJ hadn't granted her the same courtesy.

"JJ said—" Garcia thinks it through. It isn't long before guilt fills up her eyes. "In hindsight that was probably a private conversation between two people who gossip way too much?"

Leighton smiles and shakes her head. "Don't worry about me," she says.

"Not in my nature." Garcia takes a few steps towards her and takes hold of her hands. "Do you need someone to come with you?" she asks.

"No. My sister's coming with me," she lies. She loves Garcia, but she doesn't need anyone there that'll carry their worry for her on their sleeve.

"It'll be okay," Garcia says, though her worry makes it impossible for her to sound entirely convincing. "And you'll make a great mom some day."

"Thanks, PG." Leighton smiles, grateful that despite the way she's pushing Garcia aside it seems it's Garcia who always knows exactly what to say. One thing Emily and her have in common. "That means a lot."

The rest of the day passes in a blur of paperwork, phone calls and faxes. Leighton has her nerves under control for the most part, even though her lips still get assaulted every chance she gets. Everyone but Reid is walking around on eggshells as to not set her off. She's lucky that Reid knows she doesn't need any special treatment.

And then the day is over and Reid and her go home; Emily picks her up an hour later.

They're at the hospital half an hour early, but the nurse give her plenty of forms to fill out before the doctor's ready for her. Emily sits next to her, keeping silent, and Leighton can't help but feel a little sorry for taking Emily up on her offer. She can't possibly want to be here.

"Sorry for putting you on the spot about Mick earlier," Leighton says, making another attempt at small talk. She knows how Garcia and JJ can pry, and while she has no doubt that Emily loves them both very much, she also knows that incessant questions can lead to frustration.

"It's fine." Emily shrugs. "I do like him. He's a no bullshit kind of guy. But—"

And that's when Leighton realizes why Emily's so reluctant to come out and say it. She knows exactly how Emily's feeling, the insecurity, the lack of confidence, _the fear_. She went through the same thing.

"He knew you before," Leighton says.

"I'm not sure about _know_, but—" Emily's voice trails off. He met the strong and confident FBI agent she once was, _she is_, but she hasn't felt like that Emily for a while. Leighton knows she might never feel like that Emily again. "He's not pressuring me or anything."

"You're pressuring yourself," Leighton says. "I get it. Trauma—" She stares down at her hands, painfully reminded of exactly why she's here. "It changes you."

"What's the trick?"

"Give yourself time," Leighton answers, even though she knows from experience that's easier said than done. And time's not always helpful. "Learn from your mistakes." She knows there's things she still has to learn, like communicate her feelings more clearly, but when it comes to Reid she knows how to. Emily still bottles everything up, compartmentalizes, and doesn't talk to anyone. "I'm not really sure there is a trick."

"I guess we're all works in progress."

Leighton looks at Emily sideways. She doesn't know what it was about Reid that made him different from anyone else five years ago, her previous relationships had come with an ease she found comforting and safe, but often meant that things were never too serious. That all changed after her trauma.

She often thinks she was attracted to Reid because he was so closed off, and getting to know him would prove difficult and doomed to fail. Maybe Mumford had turned her self-destructive.

But she knows that's not true. There's one thing Reid managed the moment he spewed his first factoid at her.

"Does he make you smile?" Leighton asks.

Emily chuckles. "Yeah."

"That's a start."

"Miss Tanner?" a nurse's voice sounds down the hallway. Both Emily and Leighton look at her. There's a warm smile coloring her features that's meant to reassure the patient, but it makes Leighton's stomach do backflips. "We're ready for you."

"I'll be right here," Emily says, gives Leighton's hand a tight squeeze, and watches Leighton walk down the length of the hallway behind the nurse until she disappears through a side door. Emily hopes—more than hope she prays—that Leighton will get good news, for her, for Reid, for their relationship.

She wants what they have, Emily realizes, she wants someone who gets her inside jokes because he knows her through and through, not just a colleague or friend who reads her well. Friends and family are some of the most precious people in her life, but there's a reason she took up Mick's offer when they ran into each other a few weeks ago.

Not only did he relentlessly flirt with her, a quality in men she admired only when it didn't come over as cocky, he was perceptive enough to account for the loss she'd been through, something so few of her friends or family did—they all tried to act like nothing changed, like somehow not talking about it would make it not exist. Only it did happen, her heart stopped beating on the way to the hospital. She died and came back, and everyone expected her to be the same.

Not Mick. Not Leighton. Not Reid, even though she suspects that has more to do with Leighton than his own near death experience.

She takes out her cellphone and dials Mick's number. He answers on the third ring.

"Well, hello gorgeous," his accent plays with the words in a very pleasant way. "Missing me already, are we?"

Emily smiles. "Don't flatter yourself, Rawson."

Leighton's right, she thinks, Mick makes her smile, and that's exactly what she needs right now. Even if he's not the right guy for her, there's nothing wrong with having fun.

"How may I be of service?" Mick asks.

"How do you feel about drinks?"

"I'm Irish," Mick answers. "I love drinks."

Emily chuckles. "The usual place, tomorrow? Let's say around 7?"

"Sorry, love, I can't tomorrow," Mick says. "How about Friday at your place?"

"Gutsy."

Did he invite himself to her place? She's not kidding herself, she's not sure she can be intimate with anyone yet, the scar so close to her heart a constant reminder of what happened. But damn it if she doesn't want to get physical with Mick Rawson.

"Okay, it's a date," she says. "If work doesn't interfere."

"Great," Mick says. "Can't wait."

.

Reid's close to finishing the book he started this morning by the time Leighton makes it home. A second book lies waiting on the coffee table already, in case Leighton took longer and he needed further distracting. His own nerves came as a surprise; he knew he'd be nervous for Leighton, but he finds himself nervous about their future. What if Leighton can't have kids? Would she give up her dream, shut down, retreat behind her carefully constructed walls and resign herself to living out her life with him? Would she leave him? Could she be convinced to explore other options like surrogacy or adoption?

The thoughts had consumed him so completely that he hadn't eaten; he'd dived straight into his book and only looked away from the words on the page to check the time.

Leighton's key turning in the door is what signals her arrival. He lowers his book to his lap and listens for her footsteps, slowly making her way down their tiny hallway. It's only when she enters his direct line of vision that he releases a breath. Leighton isn't crying, there are no tears in her eyes and her entire body tells him she's relieved.

"How did it go?" he still asks, because he'd really like to hear it.

Leighton takes a deep breath. "No scar tissue."

Reid gets up from the couch, walks over and takes her in his arms. A whole new wave of emotion hits him right away: does this mean Leighton actually wants to try to get pregnant?

"I know it doesn't mean anything," Leighton mutters, arms wound tight around him. There's emotion in her voice just shy of tears.

"Shh," Reid hushes. "Of course it means something."

But what it means, neither of them says.

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	36. A Change Will Do You Good

**author's notes: **i'm not even going to pretend to make excuses, i caught the slash bug and i've been completely unravelling, oops. i just thought i'd finish this before we actually hit the date from the prologue in real life? all of the dialogue had already been written months ago, but i'm sorry if it seems rushed!

**characters:** Reid/Leighton (OC), Hotch, Strauss, Rossi, Natalie (OC),

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><p><strong>SCARS REMIND US WHERE WE'VE BEEN;;<strong>

****chapter thirty-five****

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><p>Change is a force that can't be stopped, can't be held back, can't be hidden away simply because one is fearful of it. Change is just something that happens, sometimes suddenly, sometimes gradually, but it moves with a steady overwhelming force that no one can control.<p>

#

Hotch has come to accept that change is an essential part of his life, and when it comes to his job it's hit or miss, bend or break, and when he refuses to budge things go to hell. He lost his marriage, lost Haley for good, almost lost Jack. He lets change overcome him because he'd have lost his mind a long time ago, his job requires flexibility and the ability to adjust to new situations quickly.

Sometimes he thinks he's gotten far too comfortable where he is right now, with this team, these people, a family more than colleagues. At times he worries that this family relies on each other too much, and if anything ever happens–no, that's ridiculous, of course, they've stuck together through the worst of times, even though it's all threatened to slip from his fingers.

But somehow they managed to make it through.

He looks up from his files when there's a firm knock on his door, open as always.

"Ma'am?" he asks, meeting with Strauss' unrelenting gaze.

"A word, Aaron?" Strauss asks, and he motions for her to sit in the chair in front of his desk. He knows why she's here, she's been pushing him for weeks now. She wants to put Morgan up for promotion so that he can become Unit Chief of his own team. But that's not up to him. "Have you given any thought to what we talked about?"

"With all due respect, ma'am," he says. "I'll tell you what I told you before. This is not my decision."

He's not going to force a change on Morgan if he doesn't want it, even though he thinks it could be good for Morgan and his career at the Bureau.

"You could talk to him," Strauss exasperates, in that tone of voice that really tells him she's not here for a discussion. She's here for results. "He values your advice."

"Have you given any thought as to why you're doing this?" he asks.

Strauss draws a hand over her thigh, wiping at invisible lint. "If you're suggesting I'm doing this to further my own career–" she starts, and looks up at him.

He doesn't deny it. He knows how he can talk to Strauss.

"Talk to him, Aaron," Strauss says, and gets up from her seat. "That's an order."

Rossi sees Strauss leave Hotch's office no five minutes after she entered. He and Hotch are the only ones here already, the rest of the team on their way in for review of a new case.

"Come to try your luck again, Erin?" he asks, approaching her with caution as usual.

"I'm only thinking of the future of all my agents."

He knows what's going on, Hotch had told him weeks ago when Strauss had first brought it up. He understands Hotch's hesitation, it's Morgan's decision and if Strauss is so keen on this happening she's the one who should go talk to him. But he thinks Strauss came to Hotch because Morgan would see right through her as well.

"And the fact that your position as Section Chief is up for review–" he suggests.

"Don't push me, Dave," Strauss says sternly.

He holds out his hands in surrender. "I wouldn't dream of it."

Strauss retreats with her head held high, coming across Leighton and Reid as they make their way into the office.

"What's going on?" Reid asks, probably because Strauss dropping by this early in the morning has never been a good sign before.

It's not that he disagrees that Morgan would make an excellent Unit Chief, he's proven his leadership skills amply in the past and it'd be a great career move. And he thinks the change could do Morgan some good. Everything changes eventually and it's no use trying to fight against it.

"The wheels of bureaucracy turning," Rossi answers.

#

Reid has never been a big fan of change, it knocked him out of his comfortable routine of going to work every day, having the same coffee in the same mug with the exact same amount of sugar. It made the faces around him seem like strangers for just a split second before he came to his senses and realized change had been overcoming him for years.

His father leaving.

His mother slowly slipping away from him.

Gideon leaving.

JJ leaving.

Emily leaving.

Somehow he's equated change with absence, people ripped away where he'd come to depend on them, where he needed them to remain because what is life without routine if not chaos? He doesn't like chaos.

"... _and they all lived happily ever after_," he reads out softly, but he felt the boy nestled against his arm drop his head a while ago, falling asleep before he could finish the story. He looks down at Henry and pulls the sheets up over him. He gets up, careful not to shake the bed too much, and turns off the night light.

Reid closes the bedroom door, finding Leighton waiting for him outside.

"See?" she says. "There's nothing scary about this."

Kids aren't really that scary when they're not his own, he thinks, there's not much he can do wrong.

Leighton had decided it was about time he babysat Henry for more than a few hours at a time; not only was he Henry's godfather, the boy absolutely worshipped him, hung on his every word, squealed at every magic trick, especially when Reid insisted he couldn't tell him how it was done–it was a powerful and satisfying feeling, knowing he had the ability to make someone believe in magic, the way his own father had when he was younger.

"But he's not mine," he says, because it's one thing to be someone's godfather, it's another to take up the responsibility of being a father himself. He clears his throat. "Ours," he corrects belatedly.

"Raising a baby is a big responsibility," Leighton agrees, "but we'll never be alone. You don't think JJ's going to be around for us? Or Emily? Hell, even Morgan."

He grins a crooked smile. "I guess I have a bigger family than I thought." But if he's being really honest with himself it's not the thought of facing this alone that scares him senseless, he knows he has people in his life that he can count on. What scares him is his mother's genes, his own genes, passing on something that'll leave a child crippled in his social life.

He's afraid that becoming a father will too big a responsibility, that he'll be overwhelmed and run like his father did, leave Leighton heartbroken, leave his future child scarred.

Leighton reaches her arms up around his neck. "We both do," she says, and presses a kiss to his lips.

They make their way into JJ's and Will's living room, but he lags behind. He stares at Leighton, weighed down by the thoughts that have been haunting him for a long time. He's accepted that Leighton thinks she wants this with him. But how can she be sure?

"Are you serious about this?" he asks, catching Leighton unaware because she turns around and frowns.

"About what?"

"Having a baby."

Leighton draws in a breath, twisting on her heels. "One day. Yes."

"But when is–one day?" he asks tentatively, the question making his heart beat faster. Leighton's been saying 'one day' for a while now. "I mean, we're both turning thirty-two in a few months and–"

"I don't want to rush into this," Leighton says. "I want you to be ready."

"I'm not–" He sighs. He thinks she should know this about him already. Maybe she's too afraid to say it. "I'm never going to be ready, Leigh."

Leighton blinks up at him, her eyes betraying her fear. But he chooses to word his fear outright. "I can get prepared, but I'll never–" He takes a deep breath. "This doubt won't go away overnight."

It might never go away, he realizes.

"And neither will I," Leighton taps into a fear that's laced far deeper and far more completely into his heart, the fear that Leighton will leave to find her true happiness somewhere else. With _someone_ else.

Leighton closes the distance between them, her hands settling on his face. "I'm not going anywhere, Spence," she says. "I love you and I want us to have a family. Together."

At the end of the day he just can't picture himself in that situation, being a partner, a father, a family man. He knows the team's family, but that's different, there's parts of him they'll never know or understand, not like Leighton.

But he thinks maybe he should get prepared, because he absolutely doesn't want to lose Leighton. It's funny, because he's accounted for Leighton in his life, carved out a place for her and even though it took some time they're in a good place. He likes where they are right now, comfortable around each other, intimately and emotionally, a steady routine between work and a private life he never thought he'd have. A baby would mean adjusting again, throwing everything around to accommodate this new person that'll be completely dependent on them for everything.

In any normal situation he would ask his mother for advice, but she'd tell him to take care of his heart first and let his head catch up but he knows that'll happen anyway. He couldn't talk to his father even if he'd been alive because that's not the relationship they had. And he can't really talk to JJ.

So there's only one person left.

"Hotch, can I–talk to you for a minute?" he asks first thing the next morning, entering Hotch's office without knocking first, closing the door behind him before Leighton notices this is where he disappeared off to.

"Of course," Hotch says, seated on his couch. "What's on your mind?"

"I've uh–" He fidgets for a few moments, his hands never quite settling. This isn't really professional, but he doesn't know how else to ask. "Leigh and I–" But it's still not the right word. "What–made you want to have kids?"

A hint of surprise touches Hotch's eyes, but he manages to control it for the most part. It must be a strange question to be asked by a colleague. Hotch motions at the seat he's standing next to. "Have a seat."

He sits down, still feeling tremendously uneasy about this whole situation.

"You know Haley and I were high school sweethearts," Hotch says.

"Right." He nods and averts his eyes. Haley and Hotch had time to properly think this through, years of love and trust between them. With Leighton it sometimes feels like they're running out of time. Maybe they are. "You knew each other for years."

"You and Leighton have known each other for years," Hotch points out matter-of-factly and it suddenly dawns on him that it's been five years, five years since he walked into that room at a police precinct in Chesapeake and met Leighton for the first time, five years since he realized she wasn't like other people in his life, treated him differently, laughed at his jokes, didn't roll her eyes whenever he spewed a random fact no one asked for.

Maybe this is just the next logical step.

"Haley really wanted kids and I wasn't opposed to the idea," Hotch adds.

"So you didn't have any doubts?"

"Everyone has doubts, Reid," Hotch says. "I was already working strange hours. I wondered if it was justified, leaving Haley alone for days at a time."

This job destroyed Hotch's marriage, made him an absent father to Jack for a few years. He doesn't want to be that kind of father, he knows the pain of that too well. Could his own experiences be a cautionary tale to him?

"I still doubt myself," Hotch says. "But I know at the end of the day, I love Jack and I want what's best for him."

He can't imagine it, loving a person so quickly, so completely.

"How do you know what's best?"

"It's an instinct." Hotch gets up and walks over to his desk. "Not something anyone can teach you. But it'll come."

He gnaws at the nail of his thumb, losing himself in thought; he and Leighton have a strong relationship, and Leighton wants this more than anything. He'll never be ready but there has to be a point where he accepts that this is a real thing that's happening.

"You know she'll leave," he says.

Hotch sits down behind his desk and looks up at him, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You know she doesn't like being profiled."

#

Leighton wakes up to the sound of laughter and screaming children, her body feeling like she could sleep for another eight hours, but when she looks up at the clock she notices it's already 10 am. She frowns, stretching out long on the bed; she can't remember the last time she's slept this long. It must be years.

"Uncle Spence, you have to stay still!" she hears one of her nephews squeal, Sam she thinks, but she can't be sure. She smiles and drags herself out of the bed, curious to know what's happening downstairs. They're with her family for a few days to celebrate Halloween; the whole team needed a break after the past few hectic weeks.

She dresses quickly and freshens up, her body still tired and sluggish, but she hopes that will go away.

When she reaches the bottom step she sees Reid standing in the middle of the living room, arms stretched out, being wrapped up in fake cobwebs by four flailing children. Reid catches her eye and smiles, clearly enjoying himself while he entertains her sister's four little rugrats. She loves seeing Reid interact with children, and she can't help but fantasize about him taking care of their baby, should they ever have one. What a sight that would be.

"Auntie Leigh, look!" Lucy runs over and hugs around one of her legs. She walks over to Reid haphazardly, trying to remain upright with a toddler twisted tight around her leg. She reaches up and presses a kiss to Reid's lips, immediately earning herself a soliloquy of complaints.

"Auntie, no," Matthew pulls at her hand. "You're supposed to be scared of him!"

"Can Spencer come trick or treating with us tonight?" Sam asks, and looks up at her with a pout.

Leighton smiles and brushes Sam's hair from his face. "You'd have to ask your Uncle Spence," she says, and all eyes in the room turn to Reid.

"I don't have a costume," he answers.

"You can go like this," Joshua suggests. "You can be the victim of a giant spider attack!" he shouts and starts chasing his sister around the room, Lucy crying for her mom.

"Josh, stop scaring your sister!" Natalie calls from the kitchen. Leighton leaves Reid to fend for himself in the living room and makes her way into the kitchen, reaching up for a bowl from an overhead cupboard.

"He's great with the kids," Natalie comments.

Leighton chuckles. "When it comes to Halloween he _is_ a kid." But she thinks it's a nice quality for any father to have, cherishing some part of his inner child. She shakes her head, not sure why she's being so sentimental.

"I'm serious," Natalie insists. "He's been keeping them off my hands all morning."

Leighton checks her watch again: 10:20am. "Did I really sleep that long?"

"Are you okay?" Natalie asks and raises a hand to her forehead. "You feel a little feverish."

She bats at her sister's hand and shrugs, no longer hungry all of a sudden. "I feel fine."

#

Emily likes change. It was something that got forced on her at a very young age, her mother's job taking them to another country every few years. As a teenager she would've claimed to hate change, never sticking to one place for too long, never enough time to make friends or having to leave friends behind. It wasn't an easy life, but it's made her into the person she is today, linguistically talented, flexible enough to adjust to new situations when asked or forced to.

Yet her time with this team, with these people, hasn't been subject to that much change. It's been seven years and it's the longest she's ever held a job, the longest she's ever been with people for a prolonged period of time. And she's not so sure change would come as easy again, not after Doyle.

She returns to the small precinct conference room with a handful of snacks Leighton had asked her for, only to find Leighton asleep on the table, hunched over in her seat, head resting on her arms. The rest of the team was chasing down a suspect now, she and Leighton rooting through files.

She shakes at Leighton's shoulder, Leighton jolting upright almost immediately. "Sorry," Emily says, and sits down next to Leighton at the table.

Leighton shakes her head.

"Are you okay?" Emily asks. "You don't usually fall asleep on the job."

"I'm fine." Leighton rubs at her eyes, attempting to chase her drowsiness away. "I just can't seem to catch up on sleep."

"I don't suppose you still want these," Emily says, pointing at the snacks now on the table.

"God yes, I'm starving." Leighton lunges forward for a bag of chips. "I feel like I've been eating for two weeks straight."

Emily raises an eyebrow; it's true, Leighton's been eating a lot more than usual and she's not the only one who's noticed. JJ had pointed it out to her a few days ago, but neither of them had made a big deal out of it. Still, it's possible that–

"Don't look at me like that," Leighton says, tuning into her curiosity.

"You think you could be–" Emily starts, but doesn't finish her question. It's not such a strange notion, Leighton being pregnant, but she doubts this is something Leighton and Reid planned.

"No," Leighton answers perturbed, but there's a distinct sense of uncertainty to her tone. Leighton's eyes glaze over, and she can see the gears in her head turning, maybe going over the typical pregnancy symptoms, sleeping a lot, eating a lot, weight gain, and somewhere in there she can see Leighton making the calculation.

Leighton looks at her, a strange panic in her eyes. "Not a word to anyone," she says.

She holds up her hands in surrender. "My lips are sealed."

She's not sure Leighton's ready for this change.

#

Change is inevitable.

Leighton never had an opinion on change one way or the other, it was something that happened and she rolled with the punches. And then the Ripper happened and it put things in perspective-maybe she'd been taking change too lightly, because suddenly here she was cut open and bare and it was a change so big it left her scarred, literally. She'd developed a steady aversion to change during her recovery, PTSD interfering with her emotional balance.

It was only after she'd fully healed and dealt with her emotional problems that an acceptable status quo returned. But she was never the same again. After the Ripper she was forced to take a step back, figured that she'd always had it too easy to really appreciate the impact change could have on a life. She still rolled with the punches, but she became more aware of it.

She's all too aware of the change that could take place once she looks at that stick again, a minus or a plus sign waiting for her at the end of it.

She'd bought a pregnancy test at the grocery store around the corner while Reid was in the shower; they needed some food anyway and this way she could keep it from him. Emily's question, fair as it was, had scared her out of her wits. She'd gone over her behavior these past few weeks, the excessive sleeping yet somehow she was still tired, the occasional nausea, the eating. And then she'd done the math, calculated the last time she had her period and to her horror it'd been two months. She'd just been too busy to notice.

She waited for Reid to go to sleep before sneaking into the bathroom, opening the box with the test inside and reading the instructions carefully before taking the inevitable plunge.

How could she not have noticed?

How had this even happened? She was on the pill and they were always safe, so she shouldn't be pregnant. Maybe this was just stress getting to her.

She knows she should talk to Reid, and the thought of keeping this from him almost tears her in half, but he's averse to the idea of even talking about babies. She always thought that if the time really came, possibly even years from now, she'd need all the arguments in the world to justify having a baby together. But this—what if he _leaves_? What if it's too much too soon and he can't compartmentalize this fast enough?

She glances at the pregnancy test, having waited the prescribed amount of time.

It comes crashing over her with the force of a tidal wave, unstoppable, cascading through her and leaving her cold. The little plus sign is unrelenting and no matter how many times she blinks it doesn't disappear.

She's _pregnant._

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